Resilience
by Deandra
Summary: An unexpected event and a chance encounter bring Lothiriel of Dol Amroth and the King of Rohan together. Now, neither of their lives will ever be the same as they were.
1. Resilience 1

_**A/N: Surprised to see me? Yeah, me too! Likely you won't be surprised at my main characters, though. I've done fits and starts on other stories, so hopefully now that this is done I will continue with working on one or more of them. Now you know, if you didn't already, why I don't post unfinished stories. It would be too cruel!**_

 _ **Many thanks to Certh for her unfailing willingness to discuss** **the fine details of Tolkien's Middle-earth as I seek to bring in new elements without going against canon.**_

 **Resilience**

Author P. G. Wodehouse wrote: _"There is in certain men … a quality of resilience, a sturdy refusal to acknowledge defeat, which aids them as effectively in affairs of the heart as in encounters of a sterner and more practical kind."_

 **Chapter 1**

(21 May 3019 III)

Even before they fully came upon the encampment, Eomer's eyes were flicking over the layout and people in residence. Among the group of men, he could see only one woman. Not common, but not entirely unusual either. Just then, the man who was holding her firmly by the arm slapped her hard, and clearly voiced a threat.

Well, now, that was a mistake. Until that moment, he might have been willing to ride on by with just a nod of his head in acknowledgement as they passed. That slap changed the situation. His jaw clenched. He could tolerate many things, but abuse of a woman was not one of them.

He glanced to his left at Eothain, his captain of the guard, and it was evident that his friend understood his intent. He gave the merest nod to indicate he was ready. Turning their horses into the camp, they sat just long enough to see who made himself known as the leader of the group. When one man stepped toward them, Eomer dismounted, and Eothain flanked him an instant later.

"Good day, gentlemen," Eomer said, his pleasant tone belying his underlying tension.

Perhaps the man wasn't fooled, for his eyes narrowed. Or maybe he had something to hide. "Can I help you, _friend_?" It was clear that title was no more than a courtesy.

"Where I come from," Eomer replied evenly, "men do not strike women, whatever the reason." His gaze flicked to the woman, questioningly. Did she want assistance or was he meddling? No, there was fear in her eyes, and barely concealed hope.

"Then maybe you ought to go back to where you came from and not concern yourself with our business." His attention was pulled back to the man before him.

The woman started to speak, but the one holding her yanked her arm sharply as a reminder to keep silent, or else. Eomer shifted his shoulder slightly in her direction, and Eothain moved forward at once.

As it happened, Eothain was built like a bear. Nearly as tall as Eomer, who was taller than most men of the Eorlingas, he carried another fifty pounds of weight besides, and all of it was muscle. When he glowered, there was no mistaking that this was a man who could pull your arms out of their sockets without breaking a sweat, and would not hesitate to do so when he deemed it necessary. Eomer often found that…useful.

The man holding the woman's arm released her and fell back a step, two steps. With the tiniest smirk, Eothain offered his arm and led her back to Eomer. By now, the leader was seething with barely contained rage, but hesitated to act. When Eothain went to retrieve the woman, the rest of the soldiers had spread out surrounding the group, clearly at the ready should any unpleasantness arise.

"You have no right!" he hissed at Eomer.

Unimpressed, Eomer retorted, "I have every right to defend a woman at need, if she wishes it." His gaze flicked to her, and took a closer look. Her clothing was dirty and torn in places, but he recognized fine fabric when he saw it. This was no peasant woman, and she was obviously higher in station than her company. "It is in my power to see you to a place of safety, if you would like to leave here," he told her.

She swallowed hard, then gave a convulsive nod of her head. "Yes. I would like that."

"You—" the leader began, angrily advancing on Eomer, but was abruptly cut off verbally and physically when Eothain stepped threateningly up beside his king. "She is ours!" the man snarled, but held his ground rather than moving closer.

"She belongs to no one unless she chooses," Eomer told him firmly, "and she does not choose you. If she is a citizen of my land, then she has the full protection of the King of Rohan. If she is of Gondor, I am quite sure King Elessar will offer her similar protection. Now, then, unless you wish me to ask more questions, and dole out whatever justice I see fit, I suggest you keep your distance and let us depart without incident. Otherwise, it will not go well for you."

Eothain strolled to where the horses were picketed and claimed one that was already saddled, leading it back to the lady. Though the men of the camp glared, and balled their fists as he passed, none dared attempt to prevent him from it. Once Eomer and the lady were mounted, he edged back to join the other soldiers, with Eomer keeping a sharp eye on his safe retreat. After Eothain was back on his horse, Eomer again looked to the leader, still staring venomously at him, and gave another slight nod of his head, reiterating wryly, "Good day, gentlemen."

They had not gone far, when Eothain glanced at the woman, then asked in Rohirric, "You know they were Gondorian. And she must have been taken against her will. Why did we not punish them?"

With a sigh, Eomer replied in their language, wishing to keep the conversation private. "Because they _were_ Gondorian. And because that part of the Firien Wood could be considered as part of Gondor, despite the long understanding that it is under Rohan's rule. Aragorn would have backed my actions, but the Gondorian people might not have taken kindly to our doling out justice by our laws without first being given specific authority."

"They will follow us," Eothain observed darkly. "Try to take her back."

"Yes," Eomer acknowledged, allowing a slight grin. "And if they are foolish enough to do that, _then_ we may act as we see fit in dealing with them. Whatever their rights in Gondor, they do not include attacking the king of Rohan's party on Riddermark soil!"

Eothain returned the grin, satisfied. He had no doubt the men were indeed that foolish. They had been strangely fortunate not to be punished for their likely crime, and wisdom would dictate that they vanish and count themselves lucky. He did not think wisdom would prevail. He, too, had seen the man slap this woman and threaten her. He was eager to return the favor on her behalf.

The woman had remained silent, but now found her voice. "Where are you taking me? This is not the way to Gondor."

Eothain quirked a surprised eyebrow at Eomer. Both realized she must be a noblewoman of sorts; they would not expect her to be able to readily discern direction travelled.

"I have business at Aldburg first," Eomer told her, laconically.

"But, you said—"

"I said I would take you to a place of safety, and I have done that. While you travel in our midst you will be safe. None of these men will allow you to be harmed."

She scowled, so he added, "Unless you prefer that I return you to your previous situation?"

There was the tiniest of shudders, and she shook her head, looking away from him.

His mouth tightened in anger. "I saw them strike you. They did not… _harm_ you beyond that?" It might well be Eothain would get his wish to return and punish the brigands, depending on her answer.

At length, she shook her head. "No. They handled me roughly, but they only ever struck me twice. Nothing…more."

He nodded, relaxing in his saddle. "Where is your home?"

She hesitated, and he suspected she did not entirely trust him, even with the apparent rescue. Finally she said, "Lossarnach. They took me from Lossarnach."

"And your name? I am Eomer, and this is Eothain." Until he was officially crowned, he preferred not to use the title of king except at need.

Again she hesitated, then merely said, "I am called Thiri by my family. Short for Lothiriel."

Eomer heard a slight hiss from Eothain on his other side, and then his friend murmured, "Did not Imrahil have a daughter by that name?"

"What did he say?" Lothiriel asked warily.

"A pretty name," Eomer told her. It didn't answer her question, but she wouldn't know that.

She relaxed somewhat at the response. "Thank you." When she did not initiate further conversation, they lapsed into silence, though Eomer chanced a glance at Eothain, his eyes warning his friend to silence. They would discuss this further when they were alone.

It was over two hours later when they finally set up camp. Thiri watched in silence as they put up the tents and ordered the camp, her grey eyes attentive. As activity began to settle, Eomer approached her, and she asked, "Where am I to sleep?"

He gestured to his left and she fell in beside him as he led the way to a small, one person tent. "This is…yours?" she asked.

"No. It is Eothain's. He will bed down in mine since it is larger and will allow for two." He grinned. "Even when one of the two is as big as Eothain."

His jest was rewarded with a small smile. Then she asked, "May I eat in my tent?"

Eomer shrugged. "You could, but it would be warmer by the fire and the night will be cold. Whichever you choose. However, you will need to come to the fire to get your food. I will not make my men wait upon you. They are tired and hungry, and many of them will be standing guard duty tonight."

"Because of me?" she asked softly.

"Not entirely, but yes. I promised your safety. Do not be alarmed."

"You think they will come for me?" she asked, looking up at him, a crease of trepidation between her brows.

"It was apparent that you were not with them by choice. So, yes, they will come. And they will regret it."

"But why did you not…" She broke off from her question, though he suspected what it was. Possibly she did not want to sound ungrateful.

"Not punish them? Had we been in the Riddermark, I would have. And it may yet come to that. At the very least they will suffer injury in their attempt, and it will provide me with a reason to take them prisoner that I did not have before."

She pressed her lips together, distressed by his words. Finally, she told him, "I do not wish for any of you to be hurt on my account."

He smiled in amusement. "Nor do we wish it, but that slap was felt by every man in this camp. We do not tolerate rough treatment of women in the Mark. No true Eorling would. Besides, Eothain is quite determined to avenge your wrong for you! I would not spoil his entertainment."

That elicited a soft laugh. "For all his fearsome size, I am inclined to think he is a good man."

"He is a very good man, one of the finest you will ever meet anywhere. And even more than most Eorlingas, he is intolerant of abusive behavior. A man once struck his sister, you see."

She cocked her head to the side and asked quite seriously, "Is he still alive?"

Eomer grinned again. "He is, though for a time he would have preferred the painlessness of death, after his _conversation_ with Eothain about it."

He straightened. "I have tasks I must finish. I will see you at supper. Someone will bring you water to wash, and then come for you when the food is ready."

"Thank you," she said, turning into the small tent after he left.

Moving to his own tent just beside hers, Eomer ducked inside. Eothain looked up questioningly from sorting his bedding. "Did you tell her?"

"That they will come tonight? No. It would only frighten her. She knows there will be guards, and that they will come. She cannot know how close we are to Aldburg that tonight would be their best possible chance at us. Tomorrow maybe, but they will not want to risk our being nearer to outside help."

Eothain nodded, though clearly uneasy. Finally, he shrugged. "I have warned the men who will be on guard duty. They know what to do. Yours being the largest tent in the group, they will assume she is here. And I will be waiting for them."

Eomer chuckled at his enthusiasm for the task. "For all your violent words, my friend, at heart you are quite soft. I know others believe your demeanor – do not you be fooled by it too."

Eothain shrugged again, unfazed by this opinion of his nature. He knew Eomer was right, and he did not wish to be any different than he was. But bullies needed to be put in their place by someone with the capability to do it. He more than fit that description. If that made him violent in the eyes of others, he could accept it. "You will not be sleeping in your usual fine bed tonight," he advised. "Having given my blankets to the lady, I stole a couple of yours."

Eomer gave a snort. "I have slept without even a blanket on occasion. I will manage with whatever you left me. And I do not begrudge it to you for your generosity to the lady."

Eothain looked up at him again. "Do you think she is Imrahil's daughter?"

"I do," Eomer said with a sigh. "He did mention she had gone to Lossarnach to stay with a relative. My guess would be she was kidnapped from there not long after our departure from Mundburg, before Imrahil could retrieve her. Otherwise, we would have known of it."

"Why have you not questioned her on it? Told her who you are and urged her to be honest?"

"She has her reasons for keeping silent. We cannot force her trust of us, though you are already well into her good graces. As for telling her who I am, she did not show any recognition of my name. I do not know that it would be of any consequence. Possibly she would feel safer in our midst if she knew. But it was not necessary to mention it, and I have not been approved by the people yet."

"You know they will approve you!" Eothain scoffed. "If anyone was held in higher esteem than Theoden it would be you!"

"Perhaps. We will see soon enough."

Eothain smiled knowingly, but did not argue further as he shoved to his feet. "Let us eat. If I am to bash heads tonight, I will need my strength!"

xx

As it turned out, Lothiriel did join them at the fire for supper. Eothain was the first to spot her lurking in the shadows at the edge of the firelight, obviously hesitant to draw near the large group of men. Setting down his meal, he went to her and offered his arm. Her smile was one of relief to see a familiar face, and she readily allowed him to lead her to the group and find her a seat. Taking up a tin plate, he scooped stew onto it for her and added a slice of bread. Another man was giving her a mug of ale, which she eyed suspiciously.

Handing her the plate, Eothain sat down beside her as he explained, "It is table ale. It is not strong. We do not drink when we have duties."

She nodded and took a tentative swallow, raising a surprised eyebrow. "It is good. I have never had ale before."

Both of them fell to eating then, letting conversation lapse. At length, she observed, "I did not think you spoke Westron."

He grinned. "I prefer my own language, but I can speak Westron at need. And Rohirric makes for private conversations when those around you do not understand it."

There was a pause, then she asked, "You and Eomer were talking about me, then?"

Eothain shrugged. "Your situation, yes. And how best to act." He flashed her a grin. "Do not fret – we spoke no ill of you. We were on urgent business in these parts when we came upon you and your _friends_. We could not allow it to turn us from our purpose, but we knew we must offer aid."

She eyed him. "What sort of urgent business, if I may ask."

His jaw tightened, and he did not immediately reply. Finally, he told her, "Our land has been devastated in this war, and many of our men lost in battle. Before winter is upon us, we must make sure the people will be fed and clothed until we can recover."

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "Sitting in Lossarnach, we did not see the devastation, though I am certain it would have come to us eventually if Gondor's armies had fallen. It is my understanding that were it not for the timely arrival of Rohan, Minas Tirith would have been lost."

"Yes, that is true. Evil was at their very gate, and even that had fallen when we arrived at dawn. Still, we are in hopes they have sufficient stores that they might assist us through the winter, if nothing else." He turned the conversation away from the battle lest he become morose thinking about it.

"I…I do not know if your people eat fish, but the southern fiefs did not suffer as sorely as Gondor proper. It may well be that they could send barrels of salted fish to supplement your food."

He smiled at that. "At this point, we will accept most every offer. And our people will learn to eat fish if that is all there is! We are a people that make do with what we have."

Most of the other Riders gathered at the fire were not entirely comfortable speaking in Westron, and did not join their conversation, but a couple were willing to test their ability. Talk turned to milder topics as the men told her of their homes and families. By the time Lothiriel took herself off to bed, she was feeling relaxed by the friendly discourse.

Even so, once she lay down in the quiet of the tent, her mind played her false, recalling episodes of her captivity. Eomer had said they would try to retake her, and she did not doubt his word. While she was comforted by the large company of soldiers around her, determined to keep her safe, she could not entirely put her fears to rest – that somehow, some way, the bandits would succeed in snatching her away again.

Her heart raced with every unexpected sound, sure that she heard approaching footsteps. Her agitation would not ease, despite all efforts to think of pleasant things as a distraction, to enable her to slip into slumber. Instead, she would find herself dozing lightly for short periods and then waking with a jolt, listening intently for any new sound to suggest someone lurked nearby.

She could not tell how long this dozing and then waking had gone on when a tap at the tent post snapped her fully awake. She tried to slow her breathing so it could not be heard, and gave no response. Anyone could be out there. Why would anyone in the camp disturb her?

Then a familiar voice called to her.

"Lothiriel, it is Eothain. May I come in?" Eothain's urgent question came softly from the tent flap.

"Yes. Of course," was her answer, though her voice did not sound as welcoming as her words.

He ducked inside but remained by the flap. "It is happening. They are here. Stay in the tent, no light, and keep silent. We will have them dealt with shortly and then you may rest. I wanted to alert you so you did not venture forth and get discovered," he hurriedly explained. Then with a curt nod of his head he ducked back out the flap and was gone.

Fear coursed through her as she huddled over her bent knees, hugging them tightly. With great force of will, she reminded herself that even if the men in the camp felt no responsibility toward her, both Eomer and Eothain had made it clear they were willing to suffer injury in order to keep her from further harm. Not exactly a comforting notion, but a reassuring one at least.

She realized her breathing had become shallow, and she was beginning to feel lightheaded from it. Purposely drawing in a deep breath, she slowly let it. Then another, and another. She sat in the pitch blackness, and listened, and waited.

xx

"Well, well, look who has come to visit me!" Eothain announced cheerfully, from his place to the right of the tent flap. That the man standing before him in his tent was the same one who had struck Lothiriel suited his mood just perfectly.

The man whirled to face him. He made to bolt back out of the tent, but Eothain stepped in to block the exit. "As you are fond of slapping women, surely it would be good for you to know what it felt like to receive such. Allow me!" He didn't wait for the man to react; Eothain's huge fist crashed into the man's face and he crumpled in a heap on the ground, blood oozing from his nose.

"Oh, my mistake! I forgot to open my hand so it would be a slap. Not a problem. When you wake, we will try it again, however many times it takes for me to do it correctly!"

Having taken care of this one, he was sure his presence would be beneficial in dealing with the others. Grabbing one of the man's ankles, he dragged him behind him out into the camp. It did not take long to spot another brigand doing battle with Ceorl. While his attention was focused on not being run through with a sword, Eothain came up behind him and bashed him in the head with his sword hilt.

"Eothain! That one was mine!" complained Ceorl. "Go get your own!" Then spotting the man Eothain had been dragging, he amended, "Well, another one of your own." With a grin, he dashed off to search out more himself, while Eothain dragged the second man over and chucked him on top of the first.

Looking around, he saw one of the brigands break away from fighting and try to bolt toward the edge of the camp to escape. "Oh, no, my friend, I think not," Eothain murmured, dashing around a couple of tents on an intercept course. The man was too busy looking back, to make sure he wasn't being followed, to notice Eothain barreling at him from the shadows. Eothain crashed into him, putting the full weight of his body behind the impact; consequently, his victim went flying, tripped over a tent stake and crashed to the ground, where he lay moaning.

Unceremoniously, Eothain grabbed him by the ankle and towed him back to the other captives. Three! He had only seen eight or nine in the brigand's camp. Certainly he had gotten his share!

Around him, the fighting was winding down. Ceorl apparently had spread the word about Eothain's victim pile, for the other brigands were being dragged or herded to that location also. Any who were yet breathing were tied securely and a guard set over them.

"Did any get away?" Eomer asked, joining the group.

The men murmured in the negative, and the general consensus was that all had been felled, either by death or injury. Eothain's count had been correct, there were eight of them. Two were dead. The other six would be delivered to King Elessar on their upcoming visit.

"In the morning we will send a message rider to Gondor. I wanted these men captured first so they could not harm the rider. I will attempt to get Lothiriel to provide more information on her family."

Eothain yawned and stretched. "Well, then, I am off to bed. A good night's work, men!"

Eomer grinned at his retreating form, then turned to the others. "Six back on guard duty around the camp. Two watch this lot. If they are not cooperative, kill them." He made sure to speak in Westron to let any captives not unconscious know of his instructions. "And good night to the rest of you. Well done."

Eothain had not gone straight back to the tent. Eomer found him at the opening of Lothiriel's tent, conversing with her. "It is quite done, my lady. You need fear them no longer. They will be returned to Gondor for punishment – those that survived."

In the moonlight, Eomer could see tears glinting in her eyes, and her voice was husky as she replied, "Thank you, Eothain. And please thank the others also. I am glad no one was hurt of your men. I will sleep easier now. Good night." She glimpsed Eomer as she was turning back into the tent, and gave a silent dip of her head in acknowledgement.

A part of Eomer knew that he should have been the one to offer her reassurance, but Eothain's relaxed manner meant the captain was more comfortable establishing friendships with people, especially women. Most of Eomer's life had been focused on warfare, and there had been little inclination and even less attention paid to social graces. That would have to change now that he was king; leading his men in battle would still be necessary on occasion, but there were other demands also. The Eorlingas looked to him to wed and provide an heir to carry on the line of Eorl. He could not hope to accomplish that if he remained just a dour military commander. With a sigh, he followed Eothain into the tent. It had been a long night after a full day. Rest was what he needed most just now.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element

éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor,

but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills;

in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	2. Resilience 2

_**NOTE: Many thanks to Certh for tolerating the endless discussions of details and exploring of possibilities. The story would be a lot less interesting without all her input.**_

 _ **Also, posting this chapter will put us on the Wed/Sat posting schedule. You get an extra one this week. I calculated it out, and at 2 chaps/week, you'll have something to read almost to the end of August. You're welcome!**_

 **Chapter 2**

(22 May 3019 III)

After the morning meal, Eomer approached Lothiriel while his Riders began to break camp. "Lothiriel, will you walk with me?" he asked politely. She raised a curious eyebrow but nodded, turning to fall into step beside him as he made his way out of the bustle of the camp. Lothiriel was sure the ravages of not enough restful sleep over the past weeks must be evident on her face. At home she had the means to conceal, or at least diminish, it. That was not an option here. Eomer did not make any comment on her appearance, for which she was relieved, but she did not believe he had missed seeing it. He struck her as being a man who was always completely aware of his surroundings.

They strolled toward the picket of horses, and finally Eomer spoke his purpose. "Let us be honest now, Lothiriel. I know you said you were taken from Lossarnach, but I do not think that was your home. Since the bandits have been captured, I must send a messenger to Gondor advising of your safety. I am sure your family is frantic."

She let out a soft sigh, looking down at her folded hands and shook her head. "I…am from Dol Amroth," she admitted.

"Though you would wish to return to your father, who is in Minas Tirith just now, with your brothers?" he prompted.

Her head snapped up in surprise, and she blinked questioningly at him. "How could you know—" She bit her lower lip and hesitated.

He smiled. "Know that your father is Imrahil? He and your brothers spoke often and fondly of Lothiriel, and were eager for me to meet you and your other brother, Elphir. I…know Imrahil well, and I am ever in his debt. It was he who noticed my sister was not dead on the Pelennor and saw her carried to the Healing Houses. Thinking her lost to me, I had ridden back into battle in a rage."

"But you say she is not lost," Lothiriel said. "And as for owing an unpayable debt to my father, you are mistaken. I am quite sure he will count my safe return as more than adequate compensation."

Eomer nodded. "Perhaps. And I am just glad I do not have to carry ill news to him of your fate."

"Thank you." She straightened. "Well, then, as you already know of my father – and more of his whereabouts than I do, it would seem – I would appreciate if you sent word on to him. He will be out of his mind, my brothers, also." She shrugged apologetically. "As the only female in the household, they all rather dote on me, and have all my life."

Eomer smiled at that, then sobered and told her, "There is another subject we should discuss before sending the message. We will be returning to claim Theoden King's body and bring it to the Riddermark for burial with his kinsmen. I could arrange a small escort to return you to Gondor now, if you wish, but the easiest solution would be for you to return with us."

"And when would that be?"

He mentally calculated their departure. "Early July. We told Aragorn we would be there by mid-month. We would not be leaving for some forty days."

"I see." She reflected on this, then eyed him speculatively. "Your sister is here now? And there is a great deal to do to order your kingdom before then? Eothain mentioned assessing your needs for the winter."

"All that is true. My sister waits at Edoras, where we will return soon. We found you by accident while traversing the Eastfold to determine needs. Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, my two Marshals, are doing the same in other areas. We will meet at Aldburg to discuss what we have found and fix on a plan."

"Perhaps I might make myself useful, whether in helping to order your household, or maybe I could even provide information or suggestions as you plan your request for aid. I have some knowledge of Gondor's resources," she offered.

It was Eomer's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You are most generous, and the assistance would be welcome, I assure you."

She shrugged and smiled. "It is the least I may do to thank you for all you have done on my behalf." She paused, becoming solemn, then confessed softly, "I had begun to fear that I would not be found and safely recovered before they could carry out their plans." Looking up, she added, "When first you rode into the camp, I dared hope slightly, but when I met your eyes, I truly felt deliverance might have come."

Eomer nodded. "Then I should not tell you how close we were to riding on without stopping. Only when they slapped you did that become impossible. Whether you were with them by choice or not, we could not stand by and not offer aid when they displayed violence to you."

Her voice husky, she smiled, saying, "I think I shall greatly like the people of the Riddermark that have such honorable standards. Certainly I have gained a favorable view of you and your men."

Eomer glimpsed his camp leader trying to catch his eye and he nodded. "It looks like they are nearly ready to depart. Let us return."

As they walked, she asked, "We go to…Aldburg from here?"

"Yes. We will be there day after tomorrow. Once my counsel with the Marshals concludes, we will continue on to Edoras. That is another day's ride to the west."

"I look forward to seeing your cities, and meeting more of your people," she said sincerely.

His men were efficient, and all had been readied, right down to the horses. Everyone was quickly mounted and underway. While the main company continued westward, one lone Rider set off back East along the Great West Road, carrying Eomer's hastily penned note.

Before falling in with the company, Lothiriel did not move, her eyes following the Rider disappearing down the road. Eothain pulled his horse in beside hers and raised a questioning eyebrow. It drew her from her reverie to say, "Perhaps I should have jotted a note to my father also."

"I am sure he will understand, and he will trust Eomer's word to be true," Eothain assured her.

As they fell in with the company, she asked, "How long will it take him to reach Minas Tirith?"

"About six days. He will not want to work his horse too hard – it might founder him – but he will not dawdle either. There could yet be Mordor evils lurking about."

"Should he have gone alone, then?" she asked.

"He will be safe enough. Message riders know how to be cautious – another reason he will not want to overtire his horse. A war horse is almost as good as a fellow Rider. He will alert you to sneaking danger."

She relaxed with a nod. "I will trust you on that. Though he will have to face that danger again on the return ride."

Eothain shook his head. "No. Usually a messenger would rest a day or two and then make the journey back, but Eomer instructed him to remain there until we return. He will join us in bringing Theoden King home."

Her eyes fell on the bandits, hands tied to their saddles and each being led by a Rider. Clearly Eomer meant not to risk any escape attempt. "What will become of them?" she queried softly, glancing at Eothain.

He followed her gaze and gave a snort of disgust. "Sadly, that decision will be left to your King to decide as their crime was done in Gondor. But, if they cause us any trouble, we will feel free to dispense justice in our own way, as the two dead ones discovered."

"Tell me of my new King. You have met him?"

Eothain shrugged. "Met him, fought alongside him, almost killed him once, even."

She opened her eyes wide in surprise, prompting him to explain, and for the next hour of their journey he entertained her with the milder version of their encounters with Aragorn.

After they had stopped for a rest break and then returned to their travel, it was evident she had been digesting his tales. "I recall Eomer calling Gondor's king by another name – when you entered the bandit's camp."

Eothain chuckled. "Aye! Elessar! The man has more names than many folks have clothes, I think. We knew him as Aragorn, but for some reason when he was crowned king he took the name Elessar. I am afraid your father or brothers will have to explain why."

Her thoughts flickered in another direction. "And what of your own King?"

"He told you, then, who he is? He has been hesitant to claim the title until the people approve of him officially."

"Is there any doubt that they will?" she asked in surprise.

"None. But Eomer…he is just careful. And, the pain of losing his uncle soon after Theodred's death has made him uncertain. He was never one to presume too much."

"It was not he who made me aware of his identity," she confessed. "That news we had heard in Lossarnach, that the King of Rohan had fallen and named his nephew Eomer as his heir. Beyond that, I know little. What manner of man is he? I cannot quite make him out."

Eothain grinned at her. "Do you prefer the truth or the good-natured ribbing of his closest friend?"

Lothiriel smiled at that. "The truth, if you please. I am serious."

Eothain considered what to say, then shrugged. "An honest man, an honorable man, one of the most loyal friends anyone could have."

Lothiriel grinned. "I suspect he would say the same of you, and already has!"

Eothain flushed slightly at the compliment, then continued, "He has a fierce love for the Riddermark. With friends he is kind, good-natured, even humorous, but he is also a formidable enemy to those who would threaten his friends or his people. I just fear…" He let the words trail off without finishing.

"Fear what?" Lothiriel persisted curiously.

With a sigh, Eothain explained, "Eomer was never intended to be king. As the King's nephew, his cousin Theodred was the rightful heir. But Theodred died at Isen, and Theoden King fell on the Pelennor, so the responsibility falls to him. I worry that he is not entirely suited to the task. He is a man of action and energy. Politics and diplomacy do not come naturally to him." Then with a grin, Eothain added, "Though I suppose a wife might make it easier for him! And certainly he needs to produce an heir or two in due course. Eowyn could do that, but she's—"

"Eowyn?" Lothiriel interrupted.

"Eomer's sister." He looked down, sobering. "She disguised herself as a man and rode to battle with us in Gondor. She very nearly died defending Theoden from the Witch-king, but she still managed to defeat him."

"Indeed! He mentioned a sister, but gave no name, and said only that she was found near dead on the field," Lothiriel exclaimed. "It had been said that no man could slay the Witch-king. If true, it was fortuitous that she rode with you and could fell him."

"True. But now she has gone and fallen in love with that Gondorian, Faramir, and will only call Edoras her home a short time longer. I know that also disquiets Eomer, despite his happiness for her."

Lothiriel gaped at him in astonishment. "What?" he asked. "Did I speak too freely?"

"Eomer's sister is to wed Faramir? The son of Denethor?" she asked, not hiding her skepticism of his assertion.

"Yes. They will be trothplighted at Edoras in August, after Theoden King's funeral. Why is that surprising?"

"It is just…my cousins, Faramir and his brother Boromir, have long resisted the wiles of Gondor's ladies regarding matrimony. Partly I think they did not wish to make a young widow of anyone, but also I could never perceive either had found anyone who touched their heart. To know Faramir is taken with a woman of Rohan, one who rode into battle, well, I would never have dreamed it of my mild, bookish cousin!" she explained.

Eothain chuckled. "Oh, 'tis quite true. I saw with my own eyes the way they gazed upon one another. With both injured and confined to the Healing Houses, neither could accompany us to the Black Gate. Apparently they had plenty of opportunity to become acquainted."

"I must say, this is quite the revelation. I now eagerly look forward to meeting Eomer's sister! How Boromir must be crowing over his little brother!"

Eothain gave her a strangled look. "Did you not know? Boromir is dead," he told her quietly.

She gasped. "What! When? How?"

"As I understand it, a party of nine left Rivendell on a quest to return the One Ring to Mordor and destroy it. Which was accomplished by two Hobbits in the party, thus the reason the Black Tower crumbled and Sauron defeated. Somewhere in their journey, Boromir was killed by orcs before his companions could assist him. I heard it happened around the end of February."

"Uncle Denethor must be mad with grief! Boromir was his greatest pride," she mused softly.

"Er…I have more bad news, I am afraid. Your uncle is dead as well – he killed himself during the siege. I do not know all the particulars, though it is said that he tried to burn Faramir with him, convinced he was wounded unto death. Gandalf and a Hobbit helped save Faramir, but Denethor perished." Eothain regarded her sympathetically. "I am sorry to bear you ill news. I did not realize you did not know."

"No, I thank you for telling me," Lothiriel assured him with ragged voice. "We were even more sheltered in Lossarnach than I knew. News trickled through to us, and we heard the eagles declaring victory, but clearly there is much more to be learned of the events of those last days." She smiled ruefully. "I think we were too pleased at the victory, and bent on celebration, to think long on the implications of loss that would come with that victory. My father had written to assure me of his and my brothers' safety, but wrote in haste so did not give a full accounting. I expect he would have been more forthcoming when he retrieved me to go home."

Eothain gave her arm a brief, sympathetic squeeze. "I will try to answer any questions you may have, and be more careful of the possible shock or surprise from my news. I assumed you already knew."

"Thank you," she said, lapsing into silence.

xx

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, which suited Eomer just fine. It had been enough contending with these bandits. He could not let himself be distracted from his main purpose – the survival of Rohan's people. When they stopped at the end of the day, he walked out from camp, and found himself staring westward, his mind roiling with possible solutions.

Lothiriel had seen him separate himself, and when he had not returned after she had organized her tent with all she had, she walked out to join him. "You are troubled?" she asked quietly, standing a short distance back of him.

He whirled at the remark, surprised that she had managed to approach so close without his notice. Relaxing when he realized there was no threat, he shrugged. "Troubled, worried, whatever you would call it. The state of the Mark is…"

"Devastatingly overwhelming?" she supplied, moving up beside him and stretching her stiff muscles.

"Yes, that would describe it all too well," he murmured.

"Without fully knowing and understanding your situation and people, I cannot necessarily advise you. But, I will tell you that my father, when there was upheaval or famine, tended to bring the people nearer to the city and house them there. When they were gathered, it was a more effective way to dispense supplies and share necessities. Rather than each family having its own cooking fire, a large fire could feed several families. That sort of thing. Would that be possible in your land, perhaps?"

He speculated briefly, then nodded. "Possibly. When orcs were often attacking in recent years, I drew as many people closer to the towns as I could for greater safety, and most have not attempted to return to their homes – not that many of them have a home to return to any longer." He bit back further words until he could speak without bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Many lives were lost during the war; there will be empty homes in Edoras and Aldburg. I will look into using them to house people through the winter." He smiled at her. "Your father is a wise man."

"He is that," she acknowledged, "and he has had many years of experience, both as prince himself and as heir to the prince before that."

"Likely that is why Aragorn is keeping him at Minas Tirith for a while, to help in restoring the kingship and city, and offer guidance to a newly crowned king with scarce experience," he observed.

She raised a surprised eyebrow, but then shrugged. "I had not heard about that, but I am not surprised. Father could offer wise counsel, and Elphir is well capable of managing Dol Amroth in his absence. It will be good training for when the task falls fully to him."

Eomer smiled ruefully. "Would that I had more training. Uncle did see me educated and taught alongside Theodred, but as I had no expectation of ever needing to rule, I did not give it proper heed. It was merely a chore that must be gotten through until I could go ride or practice fighting."

"Still, you are sensible, and from what I have seen of the way your men regard you in this group, you have garnered respect. They readily follow your leadership. That alone is a good start. It is not easy earning the trust of others so they will listen to what you say and act accordingly. And, if Eothain's judgement is to be trusted – which I think it is – you will do far better than you expect just now. Give it time, and trust your instincts. Natural leaders usually have excellent instincts," she told him.

He smiled at the ground, remarking, "I gather you have good knowledge of leadership."

She shrugged. "Enough. I grew up in a household of men, all of whom became leaders eventually. I have had plenty of opportunity to observe what worked and did not work, to decide what made for the best leaders. And then there were the lengthy debates of these subjects at meals! One can listen and learn, or be bored to tears!"

He laughed then, his mood lightened. "Yes, I suppose that is true. Perhaps that is why frequently the men and women congregate at different tables for meals – the ladies do not wish to hear us rehash the same endless debates."

xx

Lothiriel was less reticent to join the men at the fire that evening for supper. More of the men attempted conversation, or at least were willing to make remarks in their own language and have one of the others translate for Lothiriel. Most could understand Westron better than they spoke it. They might blunder through, trying to communicate with soldiers of Gondor, but were not as willing to look foolish in front of an attractive woman.

One man had been to the sea, when he was a youth, and he spoke of his memories with enthusiasm, Lothiriel listening attentively. As the night deepened, though, and more and more men took themselves off to duties or bed, she found herself tensing. It was not hard to feel brave and carefree in the midst of such eager protectors, but it was more difficult hanging onto that security when she was alone in the tent and strange night sounds came to her ears.

At length, however, there was no avoiding it, and not wishing to appear weak and silly, she steeled herself and rose to depart. Eothain had left shortly before, to finish with the responsibilities that fell to him, but Eomer instantly stood after she did, clearly ready to act as her escort. She welcomed the company, even just walking that short distance in the dark. She wondered how long it would be before she was finally able to put her fears behind her.

If Eomer sensed her tension, he did not remark on it, talking lightly of what the plans were for their day on the morrow. She was glad of the distraction.

(23 May 3019 III)

To her surprise, she slept somewhat better than the previous night, and there was no doubting that she needed the rest. The bandits had been pushing hard to put distance between themselves and Lossarnach, before she was discovered missing and a search could begin. She had been unused to riding a horse all day, but her captors were not interested in her comfort. Regardless of how tired and sore the riding made her, they rested only when they or the horses needed it. She was expected to keep up, or else.

They had never specified what would happen if she balked, but she had seen enough of their coarseness and savagery to not want to test it. She had silently endured every ache and pain, every weary muscle within her.

Oddly enough, it had toughened her. Once the Rohirrim had thwarted the bandits kidnapping, she was able to continue riding. For all the urgency of their business, they had been accommodating of her, and even more of the horses. She had heard of the fabled love the horselords had for the animals, and now she witnessed it with her own eyes. Whereas the bandits were content to stop for the night, picketing their horses while they ate and rested, then tending to the beasts, the Eorlingas saw first to their mounts and then to their own comfort.

She was also unused to sleeping on the ground, but she had no choice in that either. At least now she could boast bedding and a tent. Even more than bedding, she was relieved to have the latter; she had not been comfortable sleeping among the bandits, wondering what they might do to her as she slept. Or even just knowing they might be looking upon her with the lust that she'd seen in their eyes more than once. One man in particular had eyed her hungrily and she did not like to think what might have happened if she had ever been left alone with him. Fortunately, he was one taking orders rather than giving them. Only the wish for a rich reward had kept her safe as long as it had, from any of them. She had never been entirely sure that would not change at some point.

It would be a very great luxury to reach Aldburg and have a real bed on the morrow.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	3. Resilience 3

**_Note: I'm pleased everyone seems to be enjoying the story. Do drop a review now and then to let me, and other authors, know your thoughts about our work. It's our only compensation!_**

 **Chapter 3**

(24 May 3019 III)

The fortified town of Aldburg nestled against the foot of the White Mountains, crouched behind a wooden wall. Even with the War ended, Lothiriel could not see that their guard had been let down. Soldiers manned the watch towers of the wall, surveying the surrounding country, but more especially all those who approached the town.

Riding in the midst of Eomer's soldiers, Lothiriel knew she stood out, and no one made any attempt to disguise the curiosity in their gazes, or the low-voiced comments to anyone standing near. The many eyes she felt upon her assailed her nerves, making her struggle to keep her breathing slow and steady.

She reminded herself that she was the daughter of the Prince of Dol Amroth, and had spent most of her years since girlhood learning the ways of her father's court. Now she retreated into that training. She'd had to meet many new people, and present herself as poised, and even charming, to all. The experience of that practice helped to ground her now. As she had gotten older and begun to run her father's household, confidence was instilled. She would not allow the unfortunate recent events in her life to undo all of that. Her father had always counted on her to represent him well; she would do so in this setting just as any other.

Despite that determination, it was easier to _look_ poised than to feel it, particularly when her insides were churning with anxiety. But it was not long before her affectation of composure was unnecessary.

While Lothiriel's presence garnered mild interest, a glimpse of the captive bandits made her almost an afterthought to the Eorlingas. It was evident that these people were far more concerned with threats than with visitors.

Eothain had responsibilities, leaving Lothiriel on her own and any questions would have to wait until later. The soldiers peeled off to the left, though Eomer and a modest party continued on forward, toward a large manor house sitting on a rise, surrounded by a hedged fence of at least four feet in height. Assuming she should go with Eomer, Lothiriel fell in with his group.

A small contingent of servants had gathered in the yard to greet their lord. That was familiar to her; she had seen it often enough when her father returned home. One older woman, probably in her late fifties or early sixties, stepped forward to offer the greeting. "Welcome home, Lord Eomer." Lothiriel was mildly surprised that she did not address him as her king, though after what Eothain had said, it was probable she knew not to…yet.

Eomer smiled down at the woman, before dismounting and pulling her into an embrace. "Your face is always a welcome sight, Betersel!" Clearly, he knew her well and had a great affection for her. Lothiriel knew he was not yet wed, and the woman far too old to be his wife or sister anyway. He would not call his mother by her name. His housekeeper, then?

As the others were dismounting as well, Lothiriel followed their example, and Eomer turned to gesture her over to join him.

"Betersel, this is Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, an honored guest. She was taken by bandits and possesses only what she now wears. Will you see that she is made comfortable?"

The woman's eyes flicked over Lothiriel from head to toe, assessing everything, then she smiled warmly. "Of course. I have a light dinner ready. After that, I would think a bath and clean clothes would be of most interest?"

Lothiriel laughed. "Indeed! I have worn these same clothes for a fortnight. I almost feel as though they have taken root upon me."

Over the meal, Eomer's attention was clearly elsewhere. Lothiriel chose not to bother him with conversation. Once they had eaten, he excused himself to his study, but Betersel was not just a housekeeper – she was a most efficient one. She led Lothiriel upstairs to a room where a bath had already been prepared. Laid out on the bed were undergarments and a simple day dress. Betersel was acquainting her with the room, but turned to see Lothiriel's perusal of the clothing.

"Those belong to Lady Eowyn. She left them here a while ago and they have gone unused. I am sure she will not mind your borrowing them. The two of you are similar in size and height. The fit should not be very much off."

"Thank you," Lothiriel murmured, unexpectedly tearing up at the warmth and generosity toward her. Such was not uncommon at home. She could only think the emotions rising in her were tied to the incivility of her captors.

Unexpectedly, arms went around her drawing her into an embrace. "You poor dear. What you must have suffered. Have no fear. You are under Eomer's protection now, and he does not take that lightly. Even as a boy, he was rather singleminded in his duty to others," Betersel soothed.

Lothiriel leaned into the embrace, only mildly embarrassed as more tears were shed. Her mother had died when she was quite young, so she could not claim to remember what a mother's embrace felt like, but this was similar enough to the warmth of her father's arms to think it must be comparable.

The past few years, what little she had heard of Rohan and its people suggested a no-nonsense sort, who were proud and reserved with outsiders. She supposed she had accepted that…until now. Perhaps they were a proud people – she had not seen that – but there had been no reservation by any of them to welcome her into their midst and offer her both safety and friendship.

As her emotion eased, Lothiriel stepped back and smiled down at the older woman, more than a full head shorter than she was. "You are very kind. It may be the only reason I am not sorry for the events that led me here, but I am very glad of the chance to make the acquaintance of many good people."

Betersel stroked her cheek tenderly, then brusquely told her, "You get yourself washed. Soak a while in the hot water if you like. I will be back in due course to check on you." She disappeared out the door, leaving Lothiriel on her own.

Quickly she divested herself of her filthy garments and eased into the tub of water with a groan of pleasure. For several long minutes, she allowed the heat to seep in, both to warm her and to loosen her tight, sore muscles. Then, reaching for the soaps set nearby, she went to work scrubbing her hair and body. It was heavenly to finally be rid of the stink, and grimy feel to her skin.

Betersel timed her return perfectly. Lothiriel had stepped out of the bath, dried herself and was already into the undergarments when a knock signaled she was back. Lothiriel called for her to enter as she slipped the apron-style dress over her chemise. It was not a style she was accustomed to wearing, but she could see that it would be functional for everyday wear.

Betersel studied her critically and then nodded. "Yes, that fits you very well, though a bit loose on you. I dare say you were not kept well fed by your captors, but we'll soon right that." She moved to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing a couple more dresses and a long green cloak. "Fortunately, Eowyn left several dresses here. You will have some choice, and I'm sure you'll welcome the cloak. The heat of summer isn't upon us yet, so it can still be cold."

Lothiriel smiled affectionately at her fussy chatter, but then asked, "And now what? Is there something I should do or someplace I should be?"

"No, no," Betersel answered, turning back to face her, a pair of sturdy boots in hand that she held out to Lothiriel. "Eomer will be occupied with his work until we eat, I imagine. We do not have a great many books for reading, though you could walk about the town if you wished. Or, you could just have a rest – I would wake you for the meal."

"Perhaps I will rest," Lothiriel decided. "I can explore the town on the morrow."

"Very good, dear. I will send someone before supper if you have not ventured from your room," Betersel told her, again moving to exit.

Once the housekeeper was gone, Lothiriel reviewed her options. She was curious to see more of the town than the brief glimpse while riding in, and meet the people, but recent experience had made her fearful of venturing far from the safety of her protectors. A shiver ran through her, but she refused to dwell on her fears. Maybe later Eomer or Eothain would show her around.

Her eyes fell on the wardrobe of clothes, and the boots Betersel had found for her. Collecting them, she settled on a bench to try them on. Her thin slippers were worse for their wear, not having been designed for walking and riding about the countryside. Once she was assured of better footwear, those would be permanently discarded. With the boots was a thick pair of socks. The boots were tight on her, though she might be able to wash her own stockings or find thinner socks and have them fit better.

She set aside the boots for now, but pulled the thick socks onto her feet for warmth, and then used the extra wash water, in a bucket near the tub, to clean her stockings and hang them up to dry.

That task accomplished, she sat staring into space, unsure what to do with herself. Rest was probably wise, but she was too fidgety to think it would happen. Rising, she wandered to the window. It afforded a good view of a portion of the town. Leaning against the window frame, she merely lost herself in observing life passing by below.

No one looked up or noticed her there, though probably she would have been concealed by the darkness of the room compared to the sunny day outside. What were the lives of these people like? How did they spend their days? What was important to them? From what the soldiers around the fire had said, families were close-knit, as were communities. Eothain had explained that living in a rugged land made people rely on their neighbors more than they might in a city the like of Minas Tirith.

She had never known a place like this in her young life. The daughter of Dol Amroth's prince was reared with fine clothes, the best of tutors and nothing wanting. Not until Mordor had spread its evil tendrils deep into Gondor had she been faced with the possibility that all of her comfort and security could be lost; that all of her family might also be lost. She had not been entirely at leisure in Lossarnach. She was too fretful about the safety of her father and brothers. Like everyone else, she had waited with bated breath to learn of their fate.

But even then, most of her days passed in idleness, or at least inconsequential pursuits. She had gardened occasionally, for the exercise and fresh air, and because she liked making things grow, but most real work had been done by servants. For several years, she had been mistress of her father's household and directed the servants as to what tasks should be done each day, but once Elphir had married, his wife stepped into that place. When her brother took their father's place as ruler of Dol Amroth, Alcathir would be his princess. She would need to be prepared for that role, and the practice now was essential.

With that responsibility handed over to another, her activities leaned more toward dances and needlework, and the other frivolous pursuits of well-bred young ladies. But looking down on the town, she saw women attending to their own children, shopping for needed supplies or tending their homes. There was no evidence of servants to do the work or even assist with it. And, yet, none appeared unhappy with their lot in life. Could a woman find satisfaction in merely raising and caring for a family with her own two hands? That was not a concept that had ever occurred to her until now.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her reverie. In halting, broken Westron, a servant girl informed her that supper would soon be served and offered to show her the way. Glancing down at her feet, she debated whether to put her filthy slippers back on, but that was not at all appealing. She doubted her stockings would have dried yet, so she decided to risk going to the meal in just the socks. Eomer had not struck her as a stickler about protocol. And what her father did not know could not appall him.

She was the first to the table, and the girl left her with a bobbed curtsy. The large table took up most of the room, and she surmised that not only meals were taken here, but that gatherings of large groups of soldiers met to strategize. She walked the perimeter of the space, noting differences between this room and those at home, pausing only when Eomer entered to join her. He gestured to two places laid near the head of the table.

He took no apparent notice of her unusual footwear, but Betersel entered before she was seated and her gaze went immediately there. Her lips pursed and she raised a questioning eyebrow at Lothiriel, who suddenly felt like a naughty child caught at some mischief.

"The boots were tight with the heavy socks. I have washed out my stockings but they were not yet dry," she hastily explained.

Betersel's disapproval didn't budge. "I'll see that thinner socks are sent up to your room. You should not need to go without shoes." She didn't add 'while I am in charge', but Lothiriel heard it in her voice all the same. She smiled warmly at the woman as she took her seat.

Sitting at a table felt more formal than her previous interactions with Eomer and she was at a loss for what to say to him. The servants bringing in dishes of food, gave her a couple of moments to collect herself. Idle talk was commonplace at home, but somehow it was not appropriate here. At length, she settled for asking questions in an effort to draw Eomer out. If he did enough talking, she would be spared.

"Is this the king's home?" she asked, though she recalled mention of Edoras being the seat of the king.

"It was," Eomer told her, dishing food onto his plate, with a nod for her to do likewise. "This was the original site for over fifty years. Edoras had been chosen by Eorl but Meduseld was not built there until after his death. When Brego moved the capital to Edoras, Aldburg was given to his third son, Eofor – my ancestor. I inherited this home through my father, a descendant of Eofor."

"Then Edoras is more defensible?"

Eomer shrugged. "Probably. It is higher upon a hill than Aldburg, thus has the advantage of better visibility. Still, I have never found Aldburg wanting for security."

She could hear the note of pride in his voice. Clearly, he harbored an allegiance to his long-time home, even if he now must move to Edoras as king. It was no different with her father. Though Imrahil was a devoted Gondorian and had desired the return of the king, Lothiriel had always known he favored Dol Amroth over Minas Tirith. So long as he could continue rule of his fiefdom by the sea, let the king manage the rest of Gondor. A cousin of theirs, a son not first born, had moved to Lossarnach many years past because he loved its flowering vales. While her father could admire the beauty found in Lossarnach, he had never desired to live anywhere but Belfalas. She wondered how he would fare if the new king long required him to remain at Minas Tirith to give counsel.

Lothiriel herself was torn. She loved the sea and her home, but she had loved the beauty of Lossarnach while it was her refuge during the war. For that matter, she could see great beauty in Rohan. Though the rolling plains and sturdy mountains were unlike her home, she could not dismiss them as somehow being inferior. For her, the best part of Dol Amroth was the people – her family.

Eomer had lapsed into silence as he began eating, but she observed, "Dol Amroth, and our home, is on a high promontory that overlooks the sea. I am told that often protected us. When under attack, the Princes of Dol Amroth would draw the citizens behind the palace walls for defense." She sighed. "The Corsairs were more of a challenge – attacking the boats and ships, either at sea or as they entered or left the Anduin. Those were more difficult to protect."

"The bandits should be less troublesome now. Aragorn routed them at Pelargir, and sailed north in their ships with men to aid in the fight on the Pelennor and beyond. For the present, they are well defeated," Eomer told her.

"That is good to hear. Even in Lossarnach there was the dread they might make it that far north, and attack us there while the men were fighting at Minas Tirith. Lord Forlong had to leave many of his men behind when he rode to the city because of the Corsair threat."

When she fell silent, Eomer said, "I imagine you will be glad to return to your home, now that it is safe."

"Yes, but mostly I wish to see my family again. I _know_ they are safe, but I would wish to see it for myself." She laughed. "Sometimes their version of 'unhurt' is not the same as mine!"

He smiled in understanding. "Yes, but I assure you, they were in good health when I left them. Minor cuts and wounds that will heal quickly. They will be completely healed before you see them again. I do not think they will even have scars to show, which will disappoint Amrothos. He assures me the ladies are far more interested in a fellow who can boast a well-won scar!"

She laughed. "He is such a goose! He has never wanted for the attention of ladies, with or without scars. He would do well not to hope for a blemish."

Eomer nodded. "True. They are far too easy to come by to desire them."

Fleetingly, she wondered if Eomer had scars. Certainly not that she could see, but he had been in many battles. It would seem probable. And in recent years she had begun to notice scars of a different kind – scars of the mind rather than of the body. Even her brothers sometimes woke at night, crying out in alarm or distress. Her father tried to shield her from it, but she was a light sleeper. He would have had to move her to another part of the palace for her not to hear, and then find a way to explain the relocation to her. Erchirion had told her of the problem, in what were surely overly simplified terms, but enough that she got the idea. How could a mind recover from seeing such horrors as men did in battle?

Even her recent experiences preyed upon her mind when darkness closed in around her. She might not cry out as she woke, but the shaking and sweating was there. This was no doubt mild in comparison, but to her it was enough to know she was better not fully comprehending what soldiers witnessed.

Hoping to turn her thoughts, and the conversation, in a more pleasant direction, she asked, "Is your planning going well?"

He sat back in his chair and shrugged. "It has not entirely begun yet. Elfhelm has returned but not Erkenbrand. Hopefully by tomorrow he will be here so we may study out the issues and reach some decisions."

Both were silent, until Eomer resumed eating. "This is no way to share an evening. Tell me of your home. I have never been to the sea, though your father has invited me to visit when I have the opportunity."

"Oh, yes, you must come!" Then she regaled him with stories of her family, while they finished their meals.

When both were done, Eomer shoved his plate back and mused. "Very different than the Mark. Water is important to us, of course, but we are not ever mindful of it as you are with the sea on your doorstep. Here we have mountains and rolling plains. Most of the horse herds are kept in the Eastemnet, while there is more farming in the Westfold."

"And we are in the Eastemnet now?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, we are in the Folde. The land called the Eastemnet is north of the River Entwash. The Eastfold has the most people living in it, since it is along the Great West Road, but the two largest towns are in the Folde." He noticed her chewing her lip, concentrating on what he had told her. "Would you like to see it on a map to better envision it?"

Her face brightened with a smile and she nodded. They rose simultaneously and he led the way to his study. For the next hour, they pored over the maps. Each new map raised more questions in Lothiriel's mind, and she kept Eomer busy answering quickly enough to keep up with her.

Finally, however, her small yawns had grown too big to hide behind her hand, and she sheepishly told him, "I think I had best call it a night, and allow you to do something other than indulge my curiosity."

"I did not mind. It is not often I meet anyone so interested in what to me is mundane. But I hope you will sleep well. Can you find your room on your own or shall I walk you up?"

"I can find it, but thank you. You should try to rest soon, also. Your day has been far busier than mine. And once your marshals are both here, it will be even worse, I am sure."

He nodded in acknowledgement of her suggestion and watched as she departed out the door. He stood watching her until she was out of sight climbing the stairs. A most unusual evening for him to have spent, particularly in the company of a lady. Eowyn, yes, but a lady of Gondor? Imrahil's daughter? Most unexpected.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	4. Resilience 4

**_Note: So glad everyone is enjoying the story. Much more to come. Get comfortable._**

 **Chapter 4**

(25 May 3019 III)

Lothiriel awoke leisurely, and lay in bed pondering what was so different about this morning. The sun through the window, certainly, and the comfortable bed as well. While she was appreciative of those, that was not the difference. After a short deliberation, she realized that she felt safe – utterly and completely. Surely that had been the reason she slept soundly.

In the Rohirrim encampments and travelling along the road, she believed she was safe, probably even knew it for certain with Eothain at her side. She suspected he had been allowed to neglect other duties to ride alongside her and keep her company. But for all that, she had never _felt_ safe, not until she arrived here. Surrounded by this sturdy house and the formidable town walls, the tension in her had ebbed for the first time since she was taken from Lossarnach.

She let out a slow breath, ending it with a smile. It was glorious to not fear the world around her, if only temporarily. She let herself luxuriate in that feeling for several long minutes, but then sat up. The sun's position told her the morning was well upon them. No doubt dear Betersel had allowed her to sleep in. She would have to make a point of thanking the housekeeper for that additional kindness. It had been evident when they first arrived here that Eomer was fond of the woman; she now shared that sentiment.

She almost didn't hear the soft tap at her door, but more importantly she realized her heart had not lunged into her ribcage at the sound. "Come in," she called, continuing to brush out her hair before braiding it. She had quickly discovered that Rohan was as windy as Dol Amroth.

Betersel entered behind her, smiling warmly. She held the promised lighter-weight socks – two pairs. "Is there anything else you need, dear? Will you come down for breakfast, or shall I have a tray brought up?"

Setting down the brush to begin working on the braiding, Lothiriel told her, "The socks were all I needed. And I will come down. I do not wish to make extra work on my account."

Betersel stepped forward and took the strands of hair from her, nudging her down onto a bench and set to doing the braiding herself, humming a tune that Lothiriel did not recognize. The finished style was not one Lothiriel had ever worn before, but she rather liked it and smiled at Betersel in the mirror. "Thank you."

"Come down when you are ready," Betersel told her, turning toward the door. "Erkenbrand rode in early this morning, so the menfolk are already behind closed doors. You will be on your own. What would you particularly like to eat?"

Lothiriel shook her head. "Whatever is easy for you will be fine with me."

With a nod, Betersel closed the door behind her and Lothiriel sat back down to put on the boots. She had been right – the thinner socks made all the difference. She took one final glance in the mirror before setting out the door and downstairs.

Before she reached the dining room she and Eomer had used the previous day for both their meals, a girl gestured for her to follow and led her to the kitchen and a small table off to the side. She settled there as a meal was laid before her. Betersel's idea of 'whatever is easy for you' involved a great deal of food! Eggs, potatoes, ham, crusty bread and even berries! It seemed the housekeeper intended to make good on her promise to see Lothiriel well fed. And, though not used to eating large meals, she found she had a hearty appetite this morning. Perhaps it was another result of feeling safe here.

Several of the servants spoke to her, with varying degrees of ability, in what Westron they knew. Surprisingly, she realized she was beginning to recognize a few Rohirric words. The men around the campfire at night had taught her a couple of common words, and her ears could now pick those out even when she wasn't sure of the meaning of the entire sentence being spoken.

Bolstered by the night's rest and the food, she decided to attempt a solo visit around the town. At supper the previous evening, Eomer had assured her it was quite safe, and with the guards on the walls, she was inclined to trust that. After learning of her plans, Betersel encouraged her to go, to stretch her legs and enjoy the fine spring weather.

There were not many shops in the town and those sold items of a more practical nature than she was used to seeing. There were several businesses – broommakers, candlemakers, seamstresses and the always useful blacksmith, pounding away at his craft. The people she encountered eyed her curiously, and she called on her training in proper behavior to nod and smile, speak to them if they made any attempt to converse.

Because the town was along the Great West Road, many that she met spoke Westron quite well. One woman was pleased to tell her how the town was laid out; two children were eager to take her hands and guide her to the general-purpose store that sold common household items. It was a large place, and she realized that many of the other merchants perhaps sold their goods here for the convenience of it.

As she did not have any money with her, all she could do was browse, mostly out of curiosity. The items on display gave her an idea as to the lives these people led. Most of the clothing was for men, presumably for unmarried soldiers. She assumed the women tended to sew for themselves and their children. While she was there, a woman came in and traded a basket of eggs for a bag of apples. When she saw no money change hands, she understood that they also bartered what they had for what they needed, to everyone's benefit.

The children had gotten bored and wandered off, so she continued on her trip around the remainder of the buildings alone. Most were homes, or stables for their horses. She was curious to see how they were stabled, knowing how well they had been treated on the ride here. There was a barn a short distance ahead with open front doors, and she strolled there. Although no one was around, she stepped inside.

Stalls lined both sides of the building, except for a small room on her left and stacked bales of hay and straw on her right, near the doors. She had seen horses in a paddock outside, apparently all of the occupants since no inquisitive heads poked out of stalls at her presence. She went to the nearest stall on her right and peered in – not too terribly different than those at home, really. Perhaps larger, but certainly clean and tidy.

A sound behind her made her turn, then lurch backwards. A man was coming at her out of the shadows of the small room, whose door now stood open. A livid scar ran across the front of his face, from his hairline on his right side, across his nose and continuing down his jaw and along his neck. It did not appear to have healed properly, as the skin was puckered and misshapen. The scar in and of itself would not have bothered her – several of Eomer's Riders had visible scars and she had become somewhat accustomed to seeing them, however unpleasant they were. But this man was threatening, yelling at her, a wild look in his eyes. Her heart leapt into her throat. She stumbled back, hoping he would leave her alone, but he kept advancing toward her, shouting in Rohirric. She fell back more, her heart racing frantically. She could not be sure, but he almost seemed to be asking her a question. "I-I-I do not understand," she told him, holding her hands up to keep him back.

When he had made his presence known, he was slightly behind her and his advancing was pushing her deeper into the barn, away from the door. Her breathing became shallow as panic set in, but just as she was about to scream, yell for help, anything, a silhouette suddenly shadowed the stable doorway. Only as the newcomer moved forward, into the light filtering through the stable windows, did she realize it was Eothain. It was all she could do not to weep with relief. Rescue had come; all would be well!

To her astonishment, he looked not at her, but went to the man who was continuing to berate her. He put an arm around the man's shoulders, talking quietly to him in Rohirric until the man began to lose his agitation. Finally, he calmed enough to cast one last suspicious look at her, before picking up a bucket and heading into a nearby stall. Eothain gestured for her to come with him and turned toward the exit.

The sight of Eothain had replaced her terror with the comforting warm assurance that he would keep her safe from harm, but her heart had not yet resumed its normal cadence. Eothain obviously understood she needed to compose herself and did not pursue conversation. When finally she felt recovered sufficiently, she asked, "What was that about? What did I do to make him angry?"

Eothain sighed. "Nothing. He…he was injured during a skirmish with Orcs last year – his brain. He never spoke Westron very often, but after the injury, he has not spoken it at all. Sometimes he even has difficulty speaking Rohirric. He forgets words, or cannot say what he wants to say so he will be understood, and it caused him to retreat into himself. The scars he bears did not help. Eomer is determined that all men will be made to feel useful. The solitary life of stablekeeper suits him, as there is rarely need for him to converse with others. And, fortunately, his sister has infinite patience with him. She was widowed and now keeps his house, to look after him."

Lothiriel glanced back at the stables they had just left, then asked, "Are there many like him, scarred that cruelly?"

"Enough," Eothain admitted. "But, sometimes scars are the price we pay to survive."

She nodded, then observed, "You and Eomer have been fortunate, to have survived without being marred physically or disabled in some way."

"We are not marred outwardly," he replied. "No man who goes to war comes home unchanged."

"I was not expecting your gentleness with him," she said. "I only saw his threatening me, and assumed you would move to defend me."

"You must think me a great bully," he commented ruefully, looking away from her.

"No…not that. I know that you have a gentle side to your nature – I have seen it, here as well as before, but…"

When she let her words trail off, he prompted, "But what?"

She came to a stop and faced him, cocking her head to one side as she studied him. "I also know that you do not tolerate abuse from others, and put them in their places. I suppose there are those who would say that makes you a bully in your own right, and I might believe it if not for the gentleness and compassion you have also displayed. Those are not traits for which bullies are known."

Both were silent, as they continued on their way back to Eomer's house, pondering their conversation until Eothain sighed. "It was never my intent to bully others. I just do not like it when a person uses their greater size or strength to torment someone weaker than they are. If they cannot defend themselves, then I take it upon myself to do it for them."

It was not until they reached Eomer's yard that Lothiriel spoke again. "Eothain, do not think I have a poor opinion of you. Indeed, I was greatly relieved to see you in that stable just now. My surprise came from not understanding that man's circumstance. I expected a different reaction from you. In truth, it was far more pleasing to see the way you did respond than what I had expected." She smiled at him, and gave his arm a gentle squeeze, before heading into the house.

Eothain watched her until the door closed, his thoughts lingering on her words. Slowly, he turned and continued on with his day.

After the excitement in town, Lothiriel kept to her room the remainder of the morning. Just before she was to go downstairs, a servant came with a tray, advising that the men were still in their meeting and eating as they continued. Betersel had assumed she wouldn't want to sit at the table alone. Ah, that woman was a gem! If Eomer wasn't careful, she might steal her away to Dol Amroth! Not that Eomer would have to fear – it was unlikely Betersel would go. She clearly was as fond of the young king as he was of her.

While she had been out, someone had also brought a couple of books and left them in the room for her. To her surprise, two were in Westron, but the third was in Quenya. She would have to inquire of Betersel or Eomer how that came to be. As she leisurely enjoyed her meal, she flipped through the book in Quenya, which turned out to be a book of poems. The more she looked through it, the more she was convinced her father had a similar book in his own library, and she had browsed it on occasion, though she was by no means fluent in that language. The two books in Westron also were vaguely familiar to her. She must have at least seen them before even if she had not been tempted to read them.

She could not say that she knew a great deal about the Rohirrim, save what tidbits she had learned after becoming part of Eomer's company. The books in Gondor that mentioned them focused mostly on military and political aspects, more than on the people and the sort of lives they led. She had been told that they were not a people given to a written language, and the Gondorian scholars had not been inclined to record Rohirric history if its own people did not. Since arriving at Aldburg, though, she had noticed that their history was remembered in other ways. Eomer's home had numerous wall tapestries that he said depicted important events from their history. In addition, while they had been riding, the men had often sung. When she asked Eothain about it, he explained that the songs told of their past – of battles and kings and great important deeds. The Eorlingas might not write down words about their past, but they did keep their history close in memory and song and art. Not what she was used to, but certainly a new perspective and way of looking at preserving the past.

The young servant girl – she did not know her name, she must remember to ask – had come and collected her tray recently, but she had continued to look through the books a while longer. Now she stretched as she set the poetry aside. If one was bored, it occupied your time, but she was not overly fond of the flowery lines. And attempting to read Quenya made it even less appealing, since Sindarin came more easily to her. She had gone quickly through the other two books. They were hardly remarkable, but reading was better than sitting idle.

It could only be an hour or two past noon. She might have attempted seeing more of the town, but her morning's upheaval left her reticent to venture out alone. Perhaps she could persuade Betersel to give her a chore to do. She was not sure the housekeeper would approve of a guest – noblewoman of Gondor or otherwise – doing any appreciable work, but maybe she could convince her that a bit of sewing would not be an affront to proper manners.

Lothiriel stepped into the hallway with that intention, but then as she glanced to her left, she saw the double doors at the end and went to investigate further. It turned out that they led to a small balcony. As they were not locked, she opened them and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine. A glorious scene lay spread before her. Situated on the hillside, the second story of the house allowed a view of most of the town, and also over the surrounding wall to the plains beyond as well. It was evident why the original king of Rohan had chosen this spot for his home. She could only imagine what the view must be from Meduseld to have made them move to Edoras.

A sound behind her made her jump, but she relaxed as Eomer's head poked through the open doors.

"Oh. I wondered why this was open," he said, coming to join her.

"Am I somewhere that I should not be?" she asked. "It was not locked, so I figured it would be all right."

"No, no. It is fine. I just cannot recall the last time it was used. I certainly cannot remember when I last time came out here." He looked around as he spoke, pausing to relish the view. "Now I must wonder why that is," he murmured.

Lothiriel leaned down to lay her forearms on the railing, and then rested her chin on them as she gazed pensively down at the yard. "If this was the home of the kings of old, did they speak to the people or their troops from here, do you think? It would be a good spot."

Eomer shifted his attention to her. "I cannot say that I know for certain, but I suppose it is possible."

"This was your headquarters as Third Marshal, was it not? Did you ever speak to your men from here?" She turned her head to look up at him.

Eomer raised a surprised eyebrow. "Eothain has told you quite a lot about us, about me! But, no, I do not think I ever had occasion to speak from here. I only ever called to anyone on the ground when I was a boy. I would yell down to my friends, or later to call down instructions to a servant or stablehand." He smiled at the memories evoked.

Lothiriel straightened, realizing what his presence might mean. "Your meetings have ended?"

He nodded.

"And?" she prompted.

He shrugged. "It is rather as expected. Any who no longer have homes in the Westfold, Erkenbrand is gathering into the Hornburg for the winter. The Westemnet was sparsely populated anyway, so that group is all accounted for, and I had managed to bring those in the Wold and Eastemnet closer to the Entwash, or even into the Eastfold during the early war years. We have people spread between the Hornburg and Aldburg, and a few even farther east, but the ground they occupy has been greatly reduced."

"I know you mentioned the need for food, and possibly clothing. What else?" she asked.

Eomer leaned against the rail. "More pens for animals, and more homes to withstand the winter cold. Yet timber is in short supply. The most ready source would be Entwood, but we dare not cut wood there. In that place, the trees are not like most trees. They have a living presence. No one ventures there."

"What about using what wood you have, but then take up sod to cover the framework. I have seen homes constructed that way, though I do not know how well they hold up against cold and damp weather," she suggested.

"It is a possibility. We have used it before. But those houses do not fare well against much rain, and are very…dirty inside," he explained.

"Oh. I have only ever seen them, but never been inside one." Lothiriel thought a moment. "Could a tent be erected inside the sod house to protect from that, but let the house provide the first defense against cold and wet?"

Eomer contemplated that. "Maybe. I do not know that it has ever been done that way."

"If there were several built in a row, they could share one wall. Less building would need to be done, and it would provide greater warmth by blocking off one side from wind and weather," she mused. "Yes?"

"I will discuss the idea with those who know more about it than I do," Eomer promised. "Perhaps that will ease what is required."

"Then you would need fuel for cooking and warmth, and candles or oil for light. Gondor could send that to assist you, in addition to food and clothing," Lothiriel added, warming to the challenge. She chewed a corner of her lip, then announced, "I will study the problem more and give whatever suggestions I think you may find of use."

Eomer smiled at her enthusiasm, but merely replied, "Thank you."

His countenance sobered as his thoughts took another direction. "Eothain tells me there was a mishap in town this morning."

She bowed her head but nodded. "I am sorry to have caused a disturbance. Luckily Eothain was at hand to intervene."

The king sighed and looked off toward the stable. "Glydged was not always as you saw him. He is not a bad person, but his injuries have affected his behavior as well as his speech. He reacts strongly to change and unexpected events. Still, it is not his fault. He defended our land and paid a high price for it. We owe him, and many others, all the patience and understanding they need. Eothain in particular is very good with him."

Lothiriel chewed her lip, then asked, "How did Eothain become a champion of the downtrodden? It almost is a duty to him."

Eomer shrugged. "In a way, that is true. As a child, Eothain was small and weak, and there are always those who will use weakness to their advantage. Eothain had determination, though, and was learning to defend himself. Then he had a growth spurt, and suddenly he was not the ready pickings he had been before. But he never forgot what it felt like to be belittled and tormented by larger boys. He began to turn the tables on the bullies, because at last he was bigger and stronger than they. He made it known that any who picked on the weaker boys would answer to him. After enough lads lost scraps with him, they began to pay attention. I suppose his reputation developed from that and he tried to live up to it ever after. Being a soldier keeps him honed and skilled in fighting, and there are not many who would foolishly dare challenge him."

"The two of you grew up together, then?"

Eomer chuckled. "No. He lived at Edoras and I was at Aldburg in my early life. Not until my parents died did Eowyn and I go to live with our kin at Meduseld. I was already eleven years then. But he was one of the first boys about my age that I met."

Lothiriel eyed him steadily then shook her head. "I am sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine losing both parents. My mother died when I was very young. I barely remember her, but I always had Father and my brothers."

"That was long ago," Eomer told her, not entirely sure he wanted to discuss it, even now these many years later. "It was painful then, but Uncle and Theodred loved and cared for us. We were not left alone in the world as so many are."

Sensing his reluctance to talk on this subject, Lothiriel let it go. Instead, she asked, "And what about you? Eothain champions the weak, but I cannot think you would stand idly by either."

Eomer met her gaze, then nodded. "That is true. Perhaps I do not approach it in the same way, but I am no more tolerant than is Eothain."

Turning the conversation, he said, "You had wondered when we might be going to Edoras. Now that I have met with Erkenbrand and Elfhelm, I would like to go as soon as possible. There is a great deal to do before we return for Theoden. Would you feel up to making the journey tomorrow?"

It was courteous of him to ask, though she could hardly refuse knowing the urgency of his travels. "Of course. Let me know when to be ready, and I shall be prompt. Though, I confess, I will miss Betersel! She is a jewel."

Eomer's features softened. "She is. I have entertained the idea of bringing her to Edoras, but I do not think that would be fair to her. This has long been her home and I have no good reason to uproot her other than selfishness. I do not doubt that she would come if I asked, but there is perfectly capable staff at Meduseld, and it would be wrong of me to put her in that position. I will just have to make sure I visit Aldburg regularly. She is very dear to me and Eowyn."

Without noticing, both had begun walking back inside as they talked, and they continued on down to the dining area. A servant was sent to find Eothain, and Eomer arranged to meet with him and Betersel in a half hour to plan their departure.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	5. Resilience 5

**_NOTE: Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I've encountered an infestation of "weasel words" - those miscreants that crop up all too frequently on a page or in use. Part of the problem, though, are the limitations of word choice in Tolkien's world. At present, I am trying to at least reduce the tremendous number (so, for instance, a single word like 'something' doesn't appear 5 or 6 times on a page). However, as consolation for the delay in posting, I think this may be the longest chapter of the story._**

 **Chapter 5**

(26 May 3019 III)

"Thank you, Blidhe." Lothiriel was glad she had learned the maid's name before leaving for Edoras. The girl had shown up at her door before first light, with a satchel in hand to pack up the few dresses. Betersel had found leggings for her the previous evening, to wear under her dress when riding.

With little to pack, it only took a couple of minutes. Blidhe did the packing while she readied herself and then the two went downstairs together. The girl smiled and bobbed a curtsy at her before leaving her in the entry hall. Lothiriel could hear sounds from the dining area, and found that a light breakfast had been set out for all to partake. Eomer and Eothain were already seated and eating. She joined them, filling her plate with bread, fruit and cheese. Eomer poured her a cup of table ale, a drink she not only had gotten used to, but rather liked.

The three of them ate in silence, though occasionally a servant would enter to check all was in order, or one of Eomer's men would come to report on preparations, take food and then leave again. When it was clear that the three of them were finished with their meal, Eomer rose, ready to set their departure in motion.

Betersel was waiting in the entry hall to farewell them, and Lothiriel was glad that Eomer did not hide his affection for the housekeeper, giving her a hug as he had when he arrived. Once he released her, the woman turned to Lothiriel and smiled warmly. "We will miss you, my dear. It has been a pleasure having you with us."

Lothiriel laughed. "All the more pleasant for its brevity?" she suggested teasingly. With a scoffing look, Betersel swept her into a hug and she returned it with fervor. "Thank you so very much for all your kindnesses. You will never know just how greatly they were valued," she said quietly. Betersel's embrace tightened briefly, but then she straightened and stepped away.

That was the signal for those who were leaving to make their way into the yard. Horses were already there for the three of them, and the men were quietly milling about as they waited. The sun was low on the horizon when they finally rode out the gates and turned onto the Great West Road. A light fog hovering just above the grasses to the side of the road was slowly burning off as the sun sent forth more warmth to the day, but Lothiriel was glad of the cloak that Eowyn had left behind.

For the first hour of their journey, there was only occasional conversation. After a break to rest the horses, though, Eothain fell in beside Lothiriel. "How do you fare?"

"I am well," she assured him. "How long will it take to reach Edoras?"

"We will go for another hour and half, then have an early dinner. That will give the horses their longest rest. We should reach Meduseld in early afternoon. Perhap around 1:30."

"I had anticipated that Eomer would stay at Aldburg longer than he did."

"In other circumstances, he might have, but with all that must be done he cannot be at ease just now. I hope that next year at this time he will be more settled as king, and the Riddermark will have recovered enough to relieve his mind."

They rode farther in silence until she asked, "How did you and Eomer become such close friends? He told me that you did not grow up together."

The big man chuckled. "No, but we met in boyhood. After his parents died, Theoden King brought Eomer and Eowyn to Edoras to live with him. I met him on the street one day, and made a remark that he took exception to. The meeting ended in a tussle on the ground, both of us swinging our fists for all we were worth."

"And still you became friends?" she asked, surprise lighting her countenance.

"Yes. I was big and strong by then – I never feared getting into fights. But there was a fury in Eomer's anger that took me unaware, and I merely protected myself. Eowyn intervened and got him to stop the attack. I misjudged him, and looking back on it now, perhaps I was being a bit of a bully then myself." He paused, scowling at the thought, realizing again that he occasionally became what he despised in others.

Turning his mind from that unpleasant idea, he added, "And, do you know, he apologized, when I had been the one to start it. I knew my taunt would not sit well when I made it, but, as I said, I was not afraid of a fight. I suppose it was his apology that caught my notice. After that, the matter was put to rest and we never truly fought one another again. Argued, yes, and often disagreed, but never again came to blows."

"I notice that many of your encounters with others involve violence. Are you not tired of fighting?"

"I…yes, I suppose I am. It just is what comes most natural to me."

"Not that I have any reason to complain, certainly," she hastened to amend. "I am greatly in your debt for your willingness to fight in my defense. I just wondered if you were tired of that always being the answer. In war, you could not avoid it, but hopefully now we see a brighter day?"

"I am not sure that I know another way of managing my anger with others," he said, frowning, though he wasn't sure if his reaction was to her question or to his answer.

"Perhaps not know, but could learn?" she persisted, and he looked away, uncomfortable with her estimation of his behavior, but honest enough to recognize truth in it.

"Perhaps. Eventually," he finally said, unwilling to commit to more. Wisely, she let the subject drop.

At length, she told him, "In our family, Erchirion is the peaceable one. He has always intervened to try to help settle disputes. He always looks at all sides of a disagreement and encourages those who are arguing to make peace. Amrothos would often try to force his opinions on others – not as a bully, really, but he always believes he is right and tries overly hard to convince others to agree with him. Erchirion will not tolerate it. Usually he does not have to intimidate the bullies, though. I think as the son of Dol Amroth's Prince many were just too worried about arguing with him. I sometimes wondered if they did not simply wait until he left and then resumed their bad behavior. I get the feeling that your direct approach might be more effective for a longer period."

Eothain chuckled. "Indeed. In your land it might be more possible to conceal what you are doing from Erchirion. In the Riddermark, it is not easy to go unnoticed. It is quite probable word would reach me if one of my discussions had fallen on deaf ears."

She looked at him curiously. "But for all the violence in your life, you are remarkably good-natured. You are rather a contradiction, my friend!"

His grin broadened. "My mother always maintained that while we had no control over bad or unhappy incidents happening, we could control how we faced our challenges. She was the most cheerful person I've ever known. I suppose I got my good humor from her. My father and I were more straightforward in dealing with the unpleasantness that happened, especially when it involved disagreeable people."

"In many ways, you and Eomer are quite different. It almost seems impossible that you should be close friends, though my eyes tell me otherwise."

"We are different in temperament," he acknowledged. "But his life has held more sorrow and burden than mine. He has long felt that burden, and it only increased when he became king. Do not think, though, that he never smiles or is amused. Once the troubles in the Mark are more under control, that side of him will emerge again. The growing darkness dampened all our spirits for a very long time. He has known and dealt more death in his lifetime than many men who died after very long lives. But it is the only way we could survive. Had he and Theodred, and Eowyn also, not stood firm, we might never have made it to Minas Tirith to prevent its destruction. We very nearly fell many times before that battle came."

"I am glad he has a friend like you," she said with a smile. "I think, perhaps, your good cheer will help him through these trying days, until recovery is in sight and he can feel free to rejoice over your victories."

Though the sun rose, it mostly was hidden behind clouds, and the sky remained overcast. A light rain began just as they stopped for the midday meal. Lothiriel was glad that Eowyn's cloak was functional rather than merely decorative – it kept out the cold and damp quite well. Everyone gathered under the trees for what shelter was provided, and they largely ate in silence.

The gray day dampened conversation as well, for most of the rest of the ride was silent. Earlier, the men had sung as they rode, something Lothiriel noticed they commonly did. She was rather sorry the weather had caused them to cease. Listening to them distracted her, making the journey pass more quickly.

Finally, they turned off the main road, just before reaching a river crossing, and followed a path to climb toward the town on the hill. To either side of the path lay the barrows of past kings, and Lothiriel eyed them with interest. Eothain had explained this practice to her, but it was not the way they cared for the dead in Gondor. Certainly the kings were laid to rest in far grander places, but the grass and white flowers dotting the mounds gave this burial site a warmer feel than all the cold stone of Gondor's halls.

Shortly after they left the Great West Road, another path split off to the right, running alongside the Snowbourn River. Eothain had rejoined Eomer at the head of the company, so she asked the nearest Rider that she recognized. "Where does that road go?"

Ceorl spoke Westron better than many others, and they had conversed at the campfires along the road. "It leads to Dunharrow." He pointed toward where the road followed the slope of the hill up the side of the mountain. "It is one of our refuges at need, if we have reason to leave Edoras. That is where the Rohirrim mustered before riding to Minas Tirith's aid. Aragorn, your King Elessar, took a small company and passed under the mountains through the Paths of the Dead. The entrance is at the back of Dunharrow."

"Why would he do that and not ride with your company?" she asked.

"I do not know all the details, but I have heard tell that he went into the mountain to summon the dead to fight for us. They say the dead owed the king of Gondor their allegiance. Some of the men who came up from the south with him on the Corsair ships, told strange tales of the dead helping to defeat the pirates, and then Aragorn released them from the curse they were under since they finally fulfilled their oath."

"Oh! I remember that tale! They were sworn to follow Isildur, but broke their vow and would not fight Sauron! They were cursed to never rest until they did fulfill the oath."

She eyed the mountain speculatively. "There is a shorter road between your land and my home, shorter than going to Minas Tirith and following the river? The tale says the dead sometimes gathered at the Stone of Erech, and that is in the Blackroot Vale, in the mountains above Belfalas."

Ceorl shifted uneasily in his saddle. "I…I do not know how safe that path may be. Until Aragorn and his company passed that way, any who ventured there were never seen again. It may be safe, but…our history gives us reason to fear that place."

Lothiriel dropped her gaze to look at Ceorl in wonder. "We live in strange times! The King returned, the dead fighting for Gondor. I have only heard of these in tales but now they have come to life!"

"Indeed," Ceorl said with a nod. "Even Holbytlan have I seen, accompanying Aragorn when he returned from Isengard after the battle of Hornburg. We had deemed them mere fables, only in children's stories!"

"Holbytlan?" Lothiriel asked curiously. "I do not know that word."

"I heard your people call them Halflings, and the creatures themselves preferred Hobbit."

"Ah! Fables, indeed. I have a great deal to catch up on when I return home. Much has happened while I was in Lossarnach and only receiving sporadic reports of the battles' events, but not all the rest of it."

Their conversation had carried them to the gates. They must have been recognized by the banner the company flew, for the gates were opened to them before they reached them. Instead of the massive stone walls surrounding Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth, here again was a great wooden wall as she had seen at Aldburg. This one, though, was more well protected, with a thorny fence and dike surrounding the town, making ready access only through the gate. Ceorl had told her how the roof of Meduseld gleamed golden in the sun, but she was to miss that sight on this gray day.

They fell silent as they passed through the gate to the town and began the trek up the hill. Lothiriel looked around with great interest. Edoras had sometimes been mentioned during the course of her life, but she had never expected to see it with her own eyes. The houses were made of wood rather than the stone more common at home, and many of them dotted the slopes of the hill. Meduseld rose majestically at the top. A stream flowed down the hill, seemingly from Meduseld, running alongside a paved road with stone steps to assist with the climb when on foot.

A number of people were out and about in the town, despite the gloomy skies, and most watched as they passed. As at Aldburg, Lothiriel held their attention only until the bandits were spotted. Then she was forgotten amid the curious whispers. Eomer took no apparent notice, making straight for the summit.

Many of the Riders had separated from the company along the way, taking the bandits with them, presumably to be imprisoned. She had said goodbye to Ceorl about halfway up the hill. Lothiriel now saw that the stream issued from a stone horse head, coming from a spring at the bottom of the terrace. A man waited at the top, watching their arrival.

They rode to an open area at the bottom of broad steps, that led up to the building on the crest of the hill. When Eomer and Eothain both dismounted, Lothiriel did likewise. After several minutes, Eomer gestured toward the terrace and told her, "Go on up. I will join you in a moment."

She began the climb, pausing only to look out over Edoras and the surrounding countryside. The view was as impressive as she had anticipated. Surely you could see for leagues in most all directions, a definite benefit to the king's stronghold.

Continuing on, she saw a woman come out on the terrace and join the others waiting there. The man was dressed as a servant of sorts, though a cut above household staff – a steward perhaps. The woman, though, wore finer clothing, and both that and her bearing revealed her as someone of considerably higher rank. Probably Eomer's sister, she surmised.

The woman was eyeing her with both surprise and curiosity, obviously not expecting to find a strange woman in her brother's company. She dipped a brief curtsy and said, "You are Eowyn? Faramir's betrothed?"

The woman raised an eyebrow at this unexpected question, but crossed her arms and asked challengingly, "I am. What of it?"

A grin split Lothiriel's face. "Only that I am very pleased to make your acquaintance! You are beautiful, to be sure, but I know Faramir too well to think he was smitten only by that. You must be a most remarkable woman!"

The woman's arms unfolded as she eyed Lothiriel uncertainly, a faint blush tinging her cheeks at the compliment, but just then Eomer arrived. "Lothiriel, this is my sister, Eowyn. Eowyn, this is Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. Would you see her settled in a room?"

Eowyn opened her mouth as though to ask a question, but then simply said, "Of course. This way, please." She gave her brother a meaningful look over her shoulder before departing. Sooner or later, he would be answering questions.

A servant was following them with Lothiriel's satchel of clothing. He set it down on the bed and then departed with a short bow. Eowyn eyed her appraisingly as Lothiriel looked around the room, then asked, "Shall I have someone come to unpack for you?"

Lothiriel turned to her with a smile. "Oh, I can manage. I do not have a great deal. In fact, most of it belongs to you. Betersel was good enough to loan your clothes to me. I had one lone dress to wear."

Again Eowyn looked as though she would ask questions, but then merely smiled and said, "Then I will let you get settled. Someone will return in a while to see if you need anything."

"Thank you," Lothiriel said as Eowyn made for the door. She glanced back before closing it behind her.

With determination, Eowyn made for Eomer's study. Eothain and Gamling were both there, receiving instructions from the king, so Eowyn waited just inside the room until they left. Closing the door after them, she crossed her arms and fixed her brother with a chastizing gaze.

"Eomer? How do you come to have a Gondorian princess in your keeping? You were just going to visit the Eastfold to assess their needs. Was not Imrahil's daughter in Lossarnach?"

Eomer sighed as he took a seat, glancing up at his sister. "A rather long story, Eowyn. We happened upon an encampment just after checking on the wardens of the beacon at Halifirien. It was clear the lady was not willingly in their company. We intervened."

"Halifirien? They were in the Firien Wood? Did they come over the mountain?"

"I assume that is so, though I have not questioned Lothiriel for many details. They would not want to take the road back toward Minas Tirith after kidnapping her, lest they be detected. And when I was telling Aragorn about our path to the Pelennor, he mentioned that there was a quarry near Nardol. A road leads from there to Minas Tirith through the Stonewain Valley. Coming that way would have afforded them less chance of being seen. Once over the mountain, they must have turned west in order to put distance between themselves and any pursuers."

"How awful! They would have had her with them for over a sennight! I cannot think she was used to the rough travel and living conditions as she faced."

"No, but Lothiriel is stronger than you might think. She has proven most resiliant since she came into our company. Hopefully, she can eventually put this experience behind her completely."

"What of Imrahil? Is he sending someone for her?"

"I do not know. A messenger was sent to alert him that she was found and safe. With Lothiriel's permission, I told him we would bring her with us when we return in July for Theoden. If he wishes to do otherwise, no one has yet arrived to tell us."

Eowyn glanced in the direction of the living quarters and then remarked, "I would have expected her to want to go straight home after that."

Eomer shrugged. "I do not think she wished to inconvenience us, and hoped to offer her assistance here as a show of gratitude."

His sister smirked at him. "How useful do you think a Gondorian princess might be, Brother?"

Eomer grinned at her. "Do not underestimate the lady! As I said, she has proven resiliant, and more than willing to help as she could. She is not what you are imagining her to be. Besides, she is not a princess."

Eowyn's brow knit. "What do you mean? She is Imrahil's daughter…"

"Yes, that is true, but Lothiriel explained it to me. Since Dol Amroth is a fiefdom under the kingship of Gondor, Imrahil's power is limited to his domain. A daughter of the king would be named a princess, but the daughter of the Prince of Dol Amroth would only be a Lady of Dol Amroth. Of higher power and influence, yes, but not a princess. The same will be true of your children. Your eldest son will eventually inherit the title of Prince of Ithilien from Faramir, but your other children will only be lords and ladies."

"It all sounds very complicated, if you ask me," Eowyn retorted.

Eomer chuckled. "Aye, that it does. But you already knew that Gondor likes to complicate things."

They laughed together as Eowyn made for the door. "I will see you at supper," she told him over her shoulder.

xx

Lothiriel perused the room with interest. Eomer had told her that Meduseld became the seat of the king nearly five hundred years past. She was curious to see how it differed from the house in Aldburg. The room was somewhat smaller than the one she had used at Aldburg, though that had been Eowyn's room. Perhaps the rooms for guests were not so large as the family chambers. The furnishings were not remarkable, fairly plain and spartan, and meant to be used rather than admired.

As she had entered through the front doors of the building, she had noticed elaborate carvings on the supporting pillars. There were more inside, but less in evidence here. It was clear that Eorlings were skilled in woodcraft, and perhaps their personal belongings were more decorative than these. When she had the opportunity, she would take a closer look at the carvings, along with the many tapestries.

A knock at the door signaled the servant Eowyn had said would come. She could think of nothing she particularly needed at present, and she sent the girl on her way after learning it would be allowed for her to wander the main hall if she wished. The girl pointed the direction for her before departing. With a glance back at her new room, she caught up her cloak from the chair and closed the door behind her.

Edoras was simply laid out. The main hall took up most of the space, with the private rooms off a hall that she assumed rimmed the perimeter on three sides. As she moved down the hallway, she saw more doors leading inward than she recalled seeing in the main hall. Only once she had returned out the door through which she had been brought, and looked more closely, did she realize that many were concealed from view here by tapestries on the wall.

Looking up, she noticed there was a narrow gallery running around the room at about the height of the hallway, and she surmised that they could raise and lower the tapestries covering the doors when needed. A resourceful measure – it would restrict movement into the living area from the casual visitor.

She had not paid attention before, but now realized that each of the doors she had passed in the hallway had a slot on it. Most of them were empty, but the one she had used and a couple others had a horseshoe in the slot. Evidently that let guests and household members know which doors were blocked and which were not. Very clever, she acknowledged with a grin.

She decided to wait until another time to study the actual tapestries to determine the stories they told. For now, she wanted to acquaint herself with the layout of the place. She began a slow journey around the large open space. A louver in the roof let out smoke and let in light, but there were also windows under the eaves on the eastern side to accommodate more light getting through.

They had entered from the outside on the northern end of the hall. Between those doors and the opposite end was a long hearth, and then at the southern end was a raised dais where sat the King's throne. She strolled in that direction for a closer look. Her father tended to meet dignitaries either in his study or in a reception hall, and had no throne. He had told her once that he felt that honor belonged just to the King himself.

She had only visited the Tower Hall at Minas Tirith thrice in her life. The vast room of stone with vaulted ceiling, tall pillars and statues, and deep windows was rather overwhelming to behold. In such a room, a throne could be no afterthought. Indeed, there were many steps leading up to the dais where it sat, but even that lofty positioning was not enough. A marble canopy shaped like the crown of Gondor was above it, and on the wall behind the throne was carved an image of the White Tree, set with gems.

The King of Rohan's chair was far less grandiose. Large and gilded, yes, and on a raised dais, but only up three steps. It did not set the king above, or apart, from his people, and she had to think that was preferable. She had never been comfortable standing in Tower Hall and looking up at that empty chair. How much more intimidating would it be now that a King sat there after all these many years?

A noise behind made her jump and whirl, but it was only a servant who hastily apologized for startling her. She carried a tray of utensils and cups to set the table for supper. As Lothiriel watched her laying them out, she asked, "Will there be a great many to dine? I had thought it would only be me, the king and his sister."

"Not many, Miss. At least, no more than usual. The king's men eat in the hall, if they are unmarried, and a few other workers, too. It won't be a large gathering."

Lothiriel nodded as the girl bobbed a curtsy and moved off to continue her task. She chewed her lip as she pondered where to go next, and then strode for the front doors. They were large and heavy, but well balanced, meaning they were not difficult to open. She stepped out onto the terrace, her breath catching at a sudden brisk gust of wind. She smiled at the door guards who turned to regard her. "I was just going to walk around the terrace. Is that acceptable?"

They nodded and she made for the western side first. This side afforded a view down onto the Snowbourn and the small road Ceorl had said led to Dunharrow. Forests and plains met her eyes to the northwest, but directly west of her the mountain extended out and mostly trees blocked that view. She continued her walk around the hall, observing the layout of the place but little else of any notable interest. The back of the hall was a different story. There was an area with plants that had gone to seed, and it was wild and unkempt. She paid it little heed as she progressed along the terrace. Farther along, she could look down into a small yard that evidently was a kitchen work area based on the tools she saw at hand.

Finally, she came to the east side. In some ways, the view was similar to what she had seen to the west, though gazing to the north the plains seemed to roll on forever to the horizon. Unlike the great forest she could see in the northwest, there were only sparse clumps of trees in this direction. Again, the mountain blocked much of a view due east, but she gazed in that direction anyway.

Home. With her abduction, she had not had time to think of home. And after her rescue, she was too preoccupied by all that was happening to dwell on it. Eomer had kindly offered to send her home at once, but she had held back from accepting. Standing here now, an ache welled inside her. She missed her family dearly. It was reassuring that Eomer insisted they were all well, but she wanted more – to see and know for herself, yes, but also just to be with them once again. It had been too long that this war had fragmented her family, sending her father and brothers off to serve on various fronts.

Eomer came to mind. Between what he had said and what Eothain had told her, the king was nearly bereft of family, save for his sister. And if Eowyn was to wed Faramir, she would soon be gone from his daily life, leaving him alone. She could not even begin to imagine the enormity of the pain at losing that many beloved family members. That he and Eowyn had not cracked under the distress of it all was a sign of their great courage and strength, she was sure.

She shivered, from her bleak meditation as well as the weather. Even with the cloak she wore, the cool air coupled with the wind served to chill her, so she made her way back to the front entrance and inside. She stopped at the long hearth in the center of the hall and let the fire warm her. There was more bustle in the hall now, as suppertime drew nearer, and she went to her room to discard the cloak and brush the tangles from her hair. Clearly she needed to wear it in a braid, as she did at home on windy days.

The same servant girl, who said her name was Metehad, came to fetch her for the meal and led her to the hall. After indicating where Lothiriel was to sit, she bobbed a curtsy and returned to what Lothiriel presumed was the kitchen area. Others were slowly trickling into the hall, mostly soldiers. She recognized a few who had ridden in her company and they acknowledged her pleasantly. A couple came over to say hello and inquire as to how she was liking Meduseld.

It was not long before Eomer's arrival interrupted conversation, and everyone began to be seated. Eowyn entered last, casting an eye over the hall to be sure all was in order before sitting to her brother's right. Lothiriel was seated on Eomer's left, and was surprised to see that he did not separate himself from the men, even here. He never had while traveling, or at Aldburg, when any had joined them for a meal. She wondered if he was always this informal or, as Eothain had mentioned, unwilling to be presumptuous and set himself apart just yet.

Lothiriel would have expected Eomer would want a break from the troubles of his land while he ate, but Eowyn did not allow that. Evidently she had not been able to discuss them with her brother earlier, and took the opportunity now. If it disturbed him, he did not give any indication of it, answering her questions, though perhaps not in great detail.

The men and servants gathered at the table took no apparent notice of the conversation, either eating in silence or talking quietly with their neighbors. The riders who had been in Eomer's company were clearly giving their fellow soldiers a report of encountering the bandits and later capturing them. She pretended not to see the glances that were snuck in her direction, hoping they would not involve her in the discussion. She was not ready to speak freely of her captivity, with friends or strangers.

Eomer asked her a question, drawing her notice away from the Riders. A glint in his eyes made her think he had purposely offered her a distraction. She smiled her appreciation as she joined the siblings in conversation for the remainder of the meal.

As people finished eating, most would bid farewell and depart, for home or other duties. Several sat and continued to talk until their companions were also ready to leave. Slowly the hall emptied, and Lothiriel wondered what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the evening.

However, as Eomer rose from the table he asked, "I doubt there is a great deal here to amuse you. But, if you would wish for company, Eowyn and I can provide that."

She smiled readily. "I would like that."

With a nod, he gestured behind him, so she stood and fell in beside the pair. Only once they arrived did she realize where they must be – Eomer's study. "Quite a cozy room," she observed, taking in the desk, chairs scattered around the perimeter, a couch against one wall and animal skins providing somewhere to sit on the floor in front of the fire if one did not want to be in a chair.

Though summer was approaching, the northern weather was clinging to the unpredictability of spring. The fire that had been laid was very welcome. Eomer stoked it and added a log before the three of them sat around a small table to the side. Lothiriel suspected Eomer would often take meals in this room, too busy to pause to eat otherwise. At least this table would allow him to get away from the desk, and avoid spilling food on important papers. Sadly, her father all too often had a similar practice.

"How is Aragorn settling into his kingship? Have you heard since we left?" Eowyn asked.

Eomer shook his head. "No. The messengers bring only news of a practical nature. At present, he chooses not to reveal how he fares, even to a friend."

Eowyn laughed. "I suspect he is finding it nearly as fettering as you do, or even more!"

"You both know him, then?" Lothiriel asked.

Eowyn nodded. "He and two companions came here with the wizard, and it was due to them that our uncle was freed from Saruman's treachery. They then rode to the Hornburg to aid in the battle with Saruman's army. I saw him again when he came to Dunharrow." Her voice quieted as she added, "Before he took the Paths of the Dead."

Lothiriel sensed there might be more that was left unsaid, but it was evident it would embarrass Eowyn to speak of it, so she did not pursue the subject. Instead she commented, "It seems most everyone has met my new King except for me! What can you tell me of him?"

Eowyn deliberated on the question, then said, "He is a noble man, a strong warrior and I think he will lead Gondor well. But you would do better to ask Eomer – he has had longer acquaintance than I had with the man."

Eomer shrugged. "He proved himself honest and honorable. We have been through fire together and I now count him as a brother."

Lothiriel looked at him, cupping her chin on her hand, her elbow propped on the table. "Do you know him very well, Eomer? Were you acquainted in years past?"

Eomer shook his head. "No. The first glimpse I had of him was earlier this year. He and his companions had entered the Riddermark on an errand, and I challenged them."

"Oh! That is what Eothain was telling me about almost killing him!" she exclaimed.

" _Eothain_ wanted to kill him," Eomer asserted. " _I_ was more reasonable about listening to their tale, and believing them. I chose to ignore Eothain's recommendation and provided them with horses to continue their journey." He paused, then continued, "When you fight side by side with a man, you come to know him quickly. Either he knows how to fight or he does not. Either he will stand with you or cower away when under attack. First at the Hornburg, later on the Pelennor and finally at the Black Gate – we fought together and always knew the other could be depended on.

"But, it is not only battlefield conditions that made us brothers. We have similar sensibilities. We readily understood and agreed with one another. When either of us was unsure, the other gave encouragement. Sometimes it takes many long years to form that kind of bond, but sometimes it just naturally springs into being."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Erchirion has a friend like that – they have long served together. It is as if they are able to read one another's minds, and know instantly what the other will do in any situation."

"Yes, it is like that. And in a battle, that is to be desired. There rarely is a chance to discuss what to do."

Lothiriel sighed. "In a way, I am envious. Women do not have the sort of experiences where they come to know another woman that completely. I have friends, some closer than others, but none I could claim to know as exceedingly well as you and Aragorn know each other."

"Perhaps," Eowyn mused, "it is partly because we have little reason to know another person in that way. We may depend on their friendship, but rarely do we have to count on another woman to keep us safe from an attack."

"Yes, I suppose that is true. Still, I am rather envious all the same." Lothiriel grinned ruefully, but the look on Eowyn's face indicated that the other woman felt similarly.

Just then, Lothiriel's brow wrinkled as her attention was drawn in another direction. "How is it that this Aragorn is able to claim Gondor's throne? We had understood that Isildur's line was broken and there was no one who might qualify. Where has he been keeping himself that he was not known sooner, and why did he not come forward earlier?"

Eowyn looked to Eomer to answer. She had never inquired that closely into the man's background.

Eomer shrugged. "I do not know the whole of it, I am sure. I do know that he traveled with a company of Dunedain from the North, and they called him their Chieftain. Therefore, I would assume he had been in the northern lands until now. But I do recall Gandalf mentioning the Rangers of the North had been fighting on that front – orcs were not confined only to Rohan and Gondor. Two Elves also came with the northern Rangers, two that Aragorn named his brothers. Though that can be a term applied to someone near to your heart, I do not think that was entirely the situation with these two. Someone mentioned their being foster brothers, but I never had the chance to learn more."

"I can guess why he might not have come forward sooner," Eowyn said quietly. "Faramir once told me that he was not sure that his father would have accepted Aragorn's claim to the throne, that he might not have been willing to give up the Stewardship and rule of Gondor. Perhaps Aragorn knew that might be the case. It was said that Aragorn had served both in Gondor and Rohan in years past – here under my grandfather, Thengel. If that is true, that was many years ago. Perhaps Aragorn met Denethor while in Gondor and felt it was best not to reveal himself yet."

Lothiriel made a face. "Uncle Denethor was always adamant that any king of Gondor must come from Anarion's line, not Isildur's. After all these years of the Stewards essentially ruling Gondor, I think he had come to believe it was their right, and that no king should supplant them. In that, I suspect Faramir is right – Denethor would not readily have ceded authority to a would-be king, particularly a descendant of Isildur."

"Would not the people of Gondor forced him to yield?" Eowyn asked curiously. "Surely, he could not simply refuse by his own choice."

Lothiriel looked at her, then raised her hands in an uncertain gesture. "Many would have supported Aragorn's claim, despite his coming from Isildur rather than Anarion, but Denethor was not alone in his thinking. Others felt Gondor had done just fine under the rule of the Stewards, some even argued the Stewards should be named king and take up that mantle fully. I do not know if it would ever have gone that far, but there were those who would have desired it, especially those in Denethor's close counsel. The nobility is all about advantage. If putting the Steward in the King's seat gave them worthwhile advantage, they would not hesitate to attempt it."

"Then I suppose it is fortunate that Denethor took his own life and was not faced with that choice. Aragorn told me he had been surprised, but pleased, when Faramir awoke from the Black Breath naming him king. He had feared more opposition. Bringing victory to Gondor did not hurt his claim, either," Eomer observed.

Lothiriel smiled. "No, Uncle Denethor was never able to achieve it. That alone might have made the difference even if Denethor had lived. Still, I think Faramir will make a better Steward for the new king. He has Uncle's best qualities, but few of his unpleasant ones. His temperament is well suited to such a position."

Lothiriel caught herself struggling to hold in a yawn. She had not realized how weary she was, but all of a sudden it came upon her. "My apologies," she told the others. "I am fading fast and think I should call it a night, if you do not mind."

"Not at all," Eomer assured her. "Do you—"

"I can find my way," she answered, guessing what his question would be. "Stay longer and visit with your sister."

TBC

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	6. Resilience 6

**Chapter 6**

(1 Jun 3019 III)

The guards watched as the horseman drew near the gate. He gave them a lazy smile and a nod. "Gentlemen."

They merely nodded in return, waiting for him to declare his purpose.

"This is Edoras, I would assume?" At their affirming nod, he asked, "Is there an inn where I might find a bed for the night, and a stable for my horse?"

"Where do you travel?" asked one guard.

"From Bree. I'm headed to Gondor. With the war ended, the prospects for work might be greater there." He gave them a disarming smile. "Even if the war is over, the roads are not entirely safe. A man traveling alone does not sleep with both eyes closed. I hope to get a good night's rest, or two, before continuing on."

The guards smiled in commiseration. One pointed up the hill. "About halfway up, keep an eye to the left side and you will see an inn, The Wayfarer. They will have a room for you, and there is a stable attached for you to keep your horse. The innkeeper is Widfara."

"My thanks," the rider told them, urging his horse forward. Only after he was past them did he allow a pleased smile to tickle his lips. All too easy. Obviously they did not suspect him – he could move freely. He would find her and take her back.

xx

The next couple of days after their arrival at Edoras, when Lothiriel was unable to get the housekeeper or Eowyn to give her a task, she walked about the town to have a look at how the people lived. There were not a great many shops or inns, to her surprise, but enough businesses of other sorts to hold her interest. She had never really taken the opportunity to visit a blacksmith shop, a cooper or broommaker in person. Now she did that as she came upon them, and though sometimes their Westron was a challenge to understand through their accent, the tradesmen were always willing to talk with her and explain their occupation.

Her forays into town had an additional benefit – the walks back up the hill were strengthening her. She did not tire as quickly on the climb after making several treks. The first day she'd had to lie down and rest after the exertion, and slept for over an hour.

She still wanted to go out to the barrowfields and take a closer look. Those had intrigued her as they arrived, but the prospect of the walk had been daunting until now. When Eomer learned of her intent in that regard, he advised he would send a guard with her if she was to venture outside the gates. Though it might be safe enough without that precaution, he did not want to risk it, and she was not opposed to being accompanied.

xx

He watched her from the shadows. His former companions had been focused on what they might sell her for, but he knew it would be a mere pittance when shared between them. No, if she were taken by force, her family would not wish that shame to be known. They would do anything to conceal her ruin. They would make him a prince! A wealthy prince, no doubt. And she would be his wife, to sample her delights as often as he wished. Yes, his companions had been very short-sighted, but he would benefit from that. With them out of the way, he need share with no one.

xx

Lothiriel had found that there were back streets off the main road, and those generally led to the homes of Edoras residents. She was headed there now, for a closer look at the buildings. The design of their homes was far different than those in Gondor. She passed a group of boys, playing a game that she did not recognize and gave them a friendly smile. They only stared at her, though one did grin crookedly.

There was a line of four houses in a row, though separate from each other. A yard fronted each one and, as seemed to be typical, a small garden area was enclosed by a fence. Presumably they grew what vegetables they could on whatever land they had available. Except for one at the end, these particular houses had a dusty, abandoned air to them, and she surmised they were some of the ones Eomer had indicated were now empty after the loss of their occupants to death or relocation. They were not large, but certainly they should be able to hold at least four people and possibly as many as eight if they didn't mind being a bit cramped. But better that than no roof over your head.

She headed for the corner of the building to her left, looking to see if another street held similar structures. Just then, a movement, glimpsed from the corner of her eye, caught Lothiriel's attention.

"Hello, _Princess_. Did you miss me?"

Lothiriel gasped and whirled, but before she could run or scream, he had grabbed her and slammed her against the building wall, his hand covering her mouth. "No, no, no. We can't have you screaming. You have already been far too annoying, enlisting the aid of those horsemen. However, I am willing to forgive that, seeing as how I alone will enjoy the profit!"

Lothiriel was trying to recover her breath, both from having it forced out by hitting the wall and because his hand partially blocked her ability to draw in more. Terror, as well as lack of air, was clouding her thinking and she could only remain unmoving.

He grinned greedily, and Lothiriel tried to recoil from both his foul breath and unwashed stench. Her effort only resulted in his shoving closer into her. "I knew they were fools to sneak into a camp full of soldiers. I hung back, then returned to the horses. When I heard the shouting and sounds of fighting, I knew I was right to bide my time." He laughed, pleased with his own cleverness. "Far better to wait and catch the lady alone in order to recover her!"

Lothiriel tried to swallow her fear and think clearly. Surely someone would notice this assault. Eomer would come to her aid again. Or Eothain.

…but they did not know where she was. Her family had long been frustrated with her leaving the palace unattended and not saying where she was going. That inattentiveness to keeping a guard with her might have been unwise before the war, but with its end it had seemed unnecessary. Now, she fully understood the folly of her thinking. No one would come to her aid. No one knew of her distress. She had stupidly allowed herself to fall into this trap.

xx

"What is it, boy?" the door guard asked impatiently. "Why are you here?"

"I must speak to the king," the boy wailed, panting hard. "It's important!"

"Eomer King is busy, boy. Go play somewhere else. He cannot be bothered with your nonsense."

The lad stood his ground, despite his fright at the scowl the man was leveling at him. "No! I have to see the king. I have to tell him."

Now the door guard stood, angry. "Be gone, boy."

"What is going on here?" All had been too focused on the argument to notice Eothain coming up the steps to Meduseld.

"The boy plays games and wants to disturb the king, Captain. I am sending him away."

Eothain eyed the boy, who had cowed at the sight of the huge man looming over him. Taking a knee, Eothain asked quietly, "What is the problem, lad? Why do you seek the king?"

The gentle tone eased the boy's fears and he blurted out, "I have to tell him about the lady!"

Eothain's eyes narrowed, but he could sense the boy was not lying. Something was amiss, and a niggling in the back of his mind told him that the lady in question was Lothiriel. "Get the king, at once," he ordered the guard.

"But Captain—"

"I said get the king. Now! Interrupt him if you must, but get him here."

"Ye…yes sir!" the man stammered and darted inside.

xx

There was a shift in the man's eyes and his slimy gaze slithered down her body, then he murmured, "Yes, it will be far better to keep you for my own." He crowded even closer, running a finger down the side of her cheek, his face nearly touching hers.

Lothiriel knew she was no match for him, but she would not tolerate this without a fight. If no help was coming, then she must do what she could to save herself. She shoved at her attacker, stamping at his feet and trying to kick him, but he merely laughed. He leaned against her, letting his breadth and weight pinion her more tightly against the wall, rendering her efforts ineffective. Licking his lips, he looked into her eyes and then down at her mouth. "Oh, I do like it when they put up a fight!"

"Well, well. Clearly someone wants to die. And here I thought I had dealt with all the rats," Eothain growled.

The bandit lurched back, wheeling toward the voice, but not releasing his hold on Lothiriel. Instead, he drew her in front of him, a hand around her throat and then added a knife next to it.

"If I die, she dies!" he snarled at Eothain. His grip on her throat tightened, and Lothiriel stiffened, gasping.

Eothain was unfazed by the bold statement. "If _she_ dies, or is even hurt, you will _wish_ for death, even _beg_ for it before I am finished with you." It was spoken quietly, calmly, almost conversationally, but the words had sharp teeth.

The man gulped nervously, but did not release Lothiriel, though she felt his hand slacken where it grasped her neck. The knife wavered uncertainly, not as dangerously close as before. It was evident her captor understood that she was his only protection from Eothain making good on that threat – and it had definitely been a threat…no, a promise.

Suddenly the bandit stiffened, surprise clouding his countenance as he let out a gasp. His hold on Lothiriel abruptly loosened, making Lothiriel stumble. She quickly recovered her footing, and yanked free, bolting toward Eothain. Only when she turned from the safety of his side did she see the cause of her freedom. Eomer stood there, his face a mask of anger as he slowly dropped the bandit's body to the ground, blood gushing from the man's slit throat. The blade was still lodged in the side of his neck, and she looked away as bile rose in her chest.

Eothain gave her shoulder a squeeze, then went to join Eomer. Stooping, he pulled Eomer's blade out, wiping the blood on the man's shirt before handing it to the king. "I see your ability is as good as ever."

"He died too easily," Eomer barked.

"Aye," Eothain acknowledged. Standing, he glanced at Lothiriel, then said, "If you will see the lady safely to Meduseld, I will dispose of this refuse."

With a nod, Eomer walked slowly over to Lothiriel, who stood with her back to them. Lightly catching her elbow, he asked softly, "Did he harm you, Thiri?"

At his words, she spun around and flung herself into his embrace, sobbing uncontrollably. At first startled by her behavior, he cast a quick glance over her and saw no injury, so put a comforting arm around her and murmured, "Shhh, you are safe now. He cannot harm you again." Automatically, his hand began making gentle circling motions on her back, and he realized this was not unlike comforting his sister, when they were young and had recently lost both their parents. He had forgotten how good that protective feeling was – Eowyn had long since outgrown any need or desire for it.

As her emotion eased somewhat, Lothiriel stammered through her tears, "This is my fault! I should have made sure they were all captured or dead after they attacked the camp. I did not want to see them, but I should have—"

Eomer interrupted. "No, it is not your fault," he told her firmly. "We should have taken more note of how many there were, but you are not to blame. We knew we had accounted for all who came into our camp, but we did not think that any might have held back. Now, then, that makes nine of them. Is that all? We estimated there were only eight or nine at most."

She nodded, swiping at her nose with her hand until he dug out the handkerchief Eowyn had taken to making him carry. His sister insisted it was unbecoming for a king to act so commonly as soldiers, and was intent on refining his behavior.

"Thank you," Lothiriel sighed, taking it to dry her tears and blow her nose. Her brow wrinkled with confusion. "How did you know?"

"A boy saw him handling you roughly, and he recognized you as the woman who had arrived with us. He ran to Meduseld to let me know."

She swallowed several times taking slow breaths, forcing herself to be calm and refusing to allow more tears to take her. "You must introduce me to this boy that I may convey my gratitude."

"Of course, but just now we should return to the Hall. You should rest."

She glanced toward her attacker. Eothain was again employing his usual method of transport: dragging the man by one ankle. With a nod to her, he moved around the corner of the building, the bandit bumping along the ground behind him, leaving a bloody trail.

Then, her brow creased and she looked up curiously at Eomer. "I would haveexpected you would be the one to distract him, while Eothain came up from behind to dispatch him."

A smile twitched at Eomer's lips; already she understood them rather well. "Stealth is not one of Eothain's better skills. However, he does command attention. It is unwise to look anywhere but at Eothain when he is threatening you."

She nodded, accepting this explanation, then told him, "Thank you for coming to my aid, again. I should have said that first."

His face darkened. "You should not have need to be thanking me. With the end of the War, I had hoped to see less violence, but I find it on my doorstep. I will not rest until that has changed." The last words were murmured, and Lothiriel was not sure if he meant them for her or as a vow to himself.

Despite Lothiriel's apparent recovered composure, back in her room at Meduseld she paced restlessly, unable to settle. Reading had not worked; the same line stared at her for a ridiculous length of time before she finally abandoned the pursuit. She had tried to lie down for a nap, but even though she knew very well there were no bedbugs, it had felt as though insects were crawling all over her. At least on her feet she could keep moving, keep trying to outrun the memories that crashed upon her. His fetid breath, the lustful look in his eyes fully believing he would get what he wanted.

Her stomach heaved and she only barely kept from retching. Without realizing what she was doing, she found herself at the wash bowl, scrubbing furiously with soap and water – at her arms, her face, all that he had touched. But though the soap might remove any lingering physical presence of him, it could not cleanse her mind of the assault.

At length, she slumped into a chair and wept piteously into the towel she had been using to dry herself.

xx

"I heard Lothiriel was attacked in town. What happened?"

"One of them escaped without our notice and followed us here."

Eowyn was concerned by Eomer's demeanor. He had enough wearying him without more difficulties.

Just then, he glanced up at his sister, his eyes heavy with brooding. "Eowyn, I would like you to teach Lothiriel ways to defend herself."

"Why?" Eowyn asked in surprise. "She is a noblewoman of Gondor, Eomer. They are not given to defending themselves as the Eorlingas are."

He rubbed his face. "I know, but I would not have her be fearful the remainder of her life, always looking over her shoulder in dread of another attacker. That is no way to live. The knowledge may ease her fears."

Eowyn mulled this over, then nodded. "Very well, I will ask her. If she is willing, I will do as you desire. Not now, though. Let her recover from today."

Neither saw Lothiriel until supper, and her ongoing distress was evident. Only a cursory effort had been made with her hair, and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The siblings caught each other's gaze, but did not question her. Though unspoken between them, both knew that their guest was in for a rough night. They knew personally what daytime horrors could do to one's mind in the darkness and solitude of night.

Lothiriel declined their invitation to join them for conversation as had become their pattern in the evenings. They watched her return lethargically toward her room, unsure how to help her through this anguish.

Suddenly Eowyn called out, "Lothiriel, wait."

The woman turned, and Eowyn approached her hesitantly, not entirely comfortable with what she was about to do, but certain that she must do it. "Would…would you wish to sleep in my room with me tonight? We can have another bed brought in. It…it might make you feel safer to have someone near during the night."

Despite the relief that flared in Lothiriel's eyes, she wavered uncertainly. "I…I would not wish to disturb your sleep, Eowyn. I may be…restless at night."

An understatement, Eowyn was sure, and any recovery she had previously made was now undone. "I know, but still you are welcome. Lack of sleep will not kill me – it has happened often enough. More important is that you feel safe."

"I…" Lothiriel stopped, considering, then admitted, "If you truly do not mind, I would like that."

Eowyn hadn't known if she would agree, and was at a loss for what to do next. "Yes, well, if you like I can show you the room now, and then you may come whenever you are ready."

"I will have servants bring a bed," Eomer advised, glad of a tangible way he could help.

As the two women walked to Eowyn's room, both were silent, unsure what to say. The chamber was not particularly different than the one where Lothiriel was staying, albeit somewhat larger. The layout was very similar so there was not a great deal that was new to Lothiriel and the tour quickly concluded. While they awaited delivery of the bed, they again fell silent, but then Lothiriel murmured, not looking up from her study of her shoes, "You must think me quite the scared little rabbit."

Eowyn inhaled sharply, then went to lay an arm about her shoulders. "Not at all. I…understand better than you realize what you are feeling."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the bed, but it had sufficed to ease the awkwardness between them. Once the bed was in place and the servants gone, Eowyn said, "I have chores to complete, but come and go as you wish. The door is not kept locked. Spend the evening in your own room, or bring articles here. You do not need to wait for me if you wish to turn in. Just leave a candle burning for me."

"Thank you, Eowyn. I would say you do not know how much this is appreciated, but I think maybe you do."

Eowyn smiled. "We will be cousins soon, almost akin to sisters. I may like having a sister."

Lothiriel's smile was finally genuine. "Yes, I will like that too. Certainly a novelty for the both of us!"

TBC

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	7. Resilience 7

**_Note: So glad everyone is enjoying the story! Makes all the time it took to research and write it, not to mention the ongoing editing, worthwhile._**

 **Chapter 7**

(3 Jun 3019 III)

The night was as long and unsettled as both expected. While Eowyn did get some sleep, her tendency of being a light sleeper made her aware of Lothiriel's restless changing of position. She was not sure if the woman's worry kept her from sleeping, fearful of bad dreams, or whether she actually dozed off and encountered those dreams, only to be jolted awake by them. Whichever it was, Lothiriel never tried to wake Eowyn to keep her company. She hoped, however, that her mere presence was making it easier for the woman to feel safe.

She did discover the next morning, though, that Lothiriel had locked the door during the night. Even within Meduseld, and guards posted at the end of the hall, she had wanted that extra bit of security. Eowyn did not begrudge it to her, and made no comment of it when she left to begin her day.

At breakfast, weariness etched Lothiriel's face. But, more than that, her eyes bore a hunted look. Eowyn knew that look well. She had worn that same expression herself in the days when Grima prowled their halls and plied his treachery.

Reaching another hasty decision, Eowyn asked, "I do not like to impose, Lothiriel, but would you perhaps be willing to accompany me on my day today? You could see what sorts of tasks I have in heading the household here, and give me guidance on what to expect in Gondor when I am Faramir's wife. I confess I am rather nervous that I will make a blunder and embarrass him."

The request had the desired effect, pulling Lothiriel from her dark introspection. "Oh, of course. I would be happy to answer any of your questions, Eowyn."

The distraction worked. Lothiriel managed to stay focused on their conversation, and Eowyn was able to bring up enough subjects to keep her talking. Even so, later in the afternoon, when they had finished, she watched Lothiriel returning to her room, knowing this was only a temporary reprieve.

xx

The knock at the door caused Lothiriel to stiffen. She forced herself to relax. She was in no danger within Eomer's household.

Opening it, she was surprised to see the King's sister smiling at her. Nervously? Why would that be?

"Eowyn. I was not expecting to see you until the meal."

Eowyn licked her lips and replied, "Yes, but I would speak with you if I may."

Lothiriel stepped aside. "Of course. Do come in."

Despite her request, Eowyn did not speak immediately, idly looking around the room as though searching for words. At length, she plunged in. "I am…aware that it is not a practice in Gondor for women to learn the use of a blade. In the Riddermark, though, it is a necessity." She paused. "We live in a wilder land than yours, and the practice was born of that need. There was never any assurance that the men would be nearby if danger came upon us and our homes. We learned very quickly that even those who did not live by the blade, could well die by it."

Lothiriel smiled at her. "And you are exceptionally skilled, according to what your kinsmen said of you on our journey here. Their tales of your valor on the Pelennor readily support their words were not idle boasts."

Eowyn pinked at the compliment, then forged on. "Yes, well, in light of the recent events that have brought you to us, and those that have happened since, my brother and I thought…perhaps you would wish to have some knowledge of defending yourself, if none else was available."

Lothiriel's eyes widened as she realized where the conversation was leading. "That…that is very kind of you," she answered hesitantly, chewing her lip.

To mask her own discomfort, Eowyn turned to the items in her hand – two daggers in sheaths. "Learning to use a sword well would take too long, and would not readily be useful to you. A dagger, though, is more easily concealed until it is needed. It can be used with greater surprise against an attacker." She held out one blade to Lothiriel who slowly took it.

Drawing her own blade, Eowyn made motions with the knife as she explained the most effective means of striking. "Of course, you would not always need to draw it – only when you felt your safety in peril and saw no other help or escape."

Reluctantly, Lothiriel drew her own blade when Eowyn paused and looked expectantly at her. Instantly an image flashed in her mind of old Borduin, one of her cousin's house servants. He had attempted to protect her from harm, and the bandits had struck him down without a second glance. She had been paralyzed by the sight of his form bleeding on the ground. Had he survived? She did not know. Nor did she know if anyone else had been hurt or killed during her abduction. Her mind had blotted out the details until now. She dropped the dagger in horror.

Eowyn stepped forward and gripped her arm as Lothiriel pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting back the terror that wanted to rise in her chest. After several gulps of air, she stammered, "I…I am sorry. I just remembered… A servant was stabbed when I was taken and…"

Eowyn stooped and retrieved the blade, then told her quietly, "I do not know if having a dagger would have made any difference to what you suffered. Probably not, with that many of them, but it can make a very great difference when it is just one man attempting to force his will upon you."

Lothiriel nodded, and reached out shakily to retake the weapon in hand.

"Are you sure?" Eowyn asked uncertainly. "I – we – do not wish to add to your distress."

"No, you are right. Your reasoning is sound." She laughed deprecatingly. "Already we have seen that I have need of it on a mere outing to town."

"Yes. Well. Let us begin, then. Usually we would do this outside, but as it is your first attempt I assumed you would prefer not being observed," Eowyn explained.

For the first lesson, Eowyn only showed her various maneuvers that could be used with a blade. There would be time later for Lothiriel to practice and get comfortable executing the moves. As it was nearing suppertime, she concluded the lesson, sheathing her own dagger, and Lothiriel followed her example.

"How do you do it, Eowyn?"

"Do what?" Eowyn asked absently.

"I have heard intimations of your history, though I am sure not the whole of it. You have endured as much or even far more than have I, and yet you remain strong and cheerful, happy. Is your nature just inherently stronger than mine that you are better able to cope with the unpleasantries in life?" Lothiriel questioned, her brow knit with puzzlement.

"No," Eowyn replied firmly. "I am very sure you are just as strong and able to cope, though perhaps it does not come as naturally to you. You do not need to hear of my situation now, but I am not unfamiliar with unwanted attention from a man, and I…was not always of the temperament you see. Our cultures are very different, and I had more means available to me to protect myself. Likely you have not grown up with any knowledge or training for defending yourself. I was raised in a household of men and soldiers."

"Yes, but I was, too," Lothiriel argued.

"True, but it is…not the same. In your land, ladies are not encouraged, or even allowed really, to learn to defend themselves physically against danger. They are expected to wait for a man to come do it for them. While the Mark does not desire for its women to go into battle as I did, neither does it wish to leave them unprotected if no men are around to protect them. And, here, we are more apt to live in wild places rather than safely tucked into cities of stone, behind walls guarded by armies. It is just the nature of our culture. Had you grown up with that, you would also be better able to face the hardships and challenges that can come in life."

A tear trickled out before Lothiriel could stop it, and she brushed it away in annoyance. "No, that is true. Indeed, my family has long been overly protective of me, not anticipating my ever needing to protect myself in their absence."

Eowyn drew her close. "Then we will change that. Once you return home it will be too late for them to have you unlearn what I have taught you. And you can learn it, learn to cope."

Lothiriel drank in her words, then asked, "How?"

Eowyn shrugged. "You have already begun by learning to use a blade, taking measures to learn how to keep yourself safe at need. And perhaps a more important lesson is to put the past behind you. You cannot change what was, but you are able to decide what will be."

"I want to accept that you are right—"

"I _am_ right," Eowyn told her. "You will see. You _can_ do this." She smiled. "I cannot believe a kinswoman of Faramir's would be less than courageous!"

xx

Later that evening, Lothiriel sat on the side of the bed, gazing pensively down at the sheathed dagger. She did not think her father – or her brothers either – would entirely approve of this. Truth was, she had mixed emotions herself. But the men in her life had no grasp of what it was like to live with the fear that most women did – that a man would force himself upon her. Gondor prided itself on its nobility, but not all of Gondor was of the nobility. And not all bad men were in the common class. She had seen, and heard, of nobles behaving in most ungentlemanly ways toward a few of the ladies, taking liberties. The fortunate escaped unscathed, but some did more than they were inclined, fearful of what whispered accusations would do to their reputations. Women walked a very fine line in many ways.

Traveling well-escorted or groups of women moving together – the precaution was far too necessary. Lothiriel had always tried to push those fears behind her, secure in the knowledge that her family would keep her safe. In the blink of an eye, that delusion had been shattered. They were not there when kidnappers snatched her in Lossarnach. The aged servant was no match against vicious men to protect her, and had probably died in the attempt.

No, the men in her life might not like Eowyn teaching her the use of a blade, but the hard steel felt reassuring in her hands. Perhaps even she would not be able to prevent further assaults against her, but at least with this blade in hand she would not have to merely allow it and hope someone rescued her. She was getting very tired of being afraid, and even more of needing to be rescued. She would learn this craft, and when she returned home, it would already be accomplished – too late for her family to object.

xx

Despite the uneventful course of the day, over supper Eowyn made it clear that Lothiriel was welcome to sleep in her room for as long as she chose. For the present, however weak it made her seem and feel, she chose to accept that offer. Just the sound of Eowyn's steady breathing beside her was comforting – she wasn't alone, she wasn't unprotected in the night, here her fears could be put to rest if she would allow it. It took numerous reminders to herself during the course of the night to enable her to get any sleep, though slumber wanted to feed her unsettling reminders of the attack.

After three nights sharing Eowyn's room and three days sharing her activities, Lothiriel was restless. Though she tried to ignore the realization, she knew there was little more that Eowyn needed answering in the way of questions, and she was not of great use with the household either. Tagging along like a lost puppy after a friendly face was getting embarrassing, but Lothiriel was not sure how else to occupy the long hours of her days.

She decided upon rising that this would be the last of it. She would return to her own room for sleeping and she would find something, anything to fill her days. Whatever recovery she had made to get this far, it didn't extend to a willingness to venture into town again yet, not even if Eomer sent a guard with her. That was going to take more time. Meduseld was safe, utterly and completely, and right now that was what she wanted most.

After dinner the day of her decision, Eomer stopped her before she could depart. "I have a place to show you. Would you walk with me?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, curious as to his purpose.

Eomer led her out a back entrance of Meduseld to an area she had only glimpsed once before. Her steps faltered as she looked around, and her mouth formed an 'o' of surprise.

"What is this place?" she asked, wondering that he would bring her here, and looked more closely at the area. "I saw it when I first arrived and took a walk around the terrace, but paid it no heed."

She knew the front terrace extended around the building. As at the front, the ground sloped away from the top. There were no steps here, however – making it less open to attack, she supposed. A small pavilion stood off to her right, down the hill about ten feet, reached by a paved path. Part of the area had been leveled and cleared to accommodate the building. It afforded protection from the sun, and the ever-present wind, as well as offering a bench to rest upon.

"It was Queen Elfhild's garden," Eomer told her.

Garden? As she had noted previously, the area was largely overgrown, but now she could see that there was evidence of a layout to the plantings. She turned and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, prompting him for more information.

"She…enjoyed being in the fresh air, and so my uncle provided this spot she could fashion as suited her. After her death, it began falling into decline. Especially in recent years with the darkness overshadowing all other concerns."

Lothiriel caught her lip between her teeth, envisioning what it might have looked like, then asked, "Would…would you mind if I were to work here, restoring it?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "I had thought you might like the solitude, whilst knowing yourself safe. I did not intend for you—"

She raised a hand to interrupt. "I had hoped to be of more help here – to Eowyn and your household." She smiled ruefully. "But both your sister and housekeeper are most capable. I find myself frustrated in that, with not enough to offer that is useful to them. At least this I could do when they had no other need of me."

He was reluctant to allow this, but then shrugged. "If you wish. I see no harm in it. Let my Steward know what you require. This is very kind of you."

She laughed. "Perhaps. But I came here hoping the duration of my stay would be well spent on your behalf, and yet that has not been the case. I will relish the busyness of it, and feeling I am doing that for which others do not have time to focus their attention."

His gaze drifted over the small patch. At length, he murmured pensively, "I should like to see this renewed. I remember playing here as a child – before it was completely gone to seed." He looked down at the dead leaf he was idly shredding with his hands. "Theoden told Theodred that he and Elfhild would often sit out here at day's end, watching the sun set. A small interlude of peace in a king and queen's busy life. Theodred hoped to one day be able to follow that example."

She watched him in silence, then observed, "You speak of your uncle and your cousin, but never of your parents. Do you not remember them?"

Eomer stiffened, and looked away, dropping the destroyed leaf.

Lothiriel swallowed hard, then hastily said, "I am sorry. That was too forward of me. I allowed my curiosity to overtake me."

After drawing in a long slow breath and letting it out, Eomer turned back and shook his head. Haltingly, he explained, "It is just that I…that no one…has asked me about my parents in many years. You caught me off my guard." He pensively stared over the hillside, then murmured, "How to explain…"

"You do not need to—"

"No. It has been nearly twenty years. It should not be an insurmountable challenge to answer a simple question.

"I was eleven years when they died, so I do remember them both – they died within a year of each other. My mother succumbed to grief when my father was killed by orcs. She took ill and died not long after."

She tilted her head. "Were you angry with them? For dying and leaving you and Eowyn? I know I was angry that my mother was gone. I had the rest of my family, but I wanted Mother."

He eyed her as he pondered the question, then looked away. "Do not misunderstand. I admired my father and wanted to be like him, but I was not entirely blind to the truth – he was reckless. I heard the men talk of it when they did not know I was listening. Many called him 'impulsive', but one can be that with suitable caution. My father did not always rate the danger when he fearlessly rode forth. It was that lack of caution that got him killed, I am sure. Part of me knew that might happen, before he died, and it frightened me – I worried for his safety. But each time he returned without serious harm, I told myself my fears were groundless. They were not."

He lapsed into silence, and Lothiriel did likewise. She assessed what he had told her. She was always anxious when her father and brothers went to battle, especially Amrothos who could be careless, but she did not think she had ever doubted their judgement. She always had believed they would return to her, the most recent War being the exception. None had truly expected Men to survive that one.

"And your mother?" she finally asked.

"I…was disappointed. Disappointed that she did not fight harder to stay with me and Eowyn. I was too young to comprehend her great grief. Only many years later did I make my peace with it, though even now I think it a weakness to give up."

She hesitated, then told him, "I cannot say that I had a good reason for resenting my mother. Illness took her, through no fault of her own. But I was too young to care about more than that I wanted my mother and she was not there. My brothers and Father grieved also, but they tried their best to comfort me. Even Aunt Ivriniel sought to fill the void, but I only knew that I wanted Mother." She paused, contemplatively, then remarked, "Were it not for a painting Father had done of her shortly after they wed, I am not sure I would even remember how she looked." She met Eomer's gaze. "That is very sad, do you not think?"

He looked down before replying, "Not everyone has even that. I did notice the portraits in Gondor, but that is not common in the Mark. When someone is gone, you have only your memory of them."

Her mouth opened but no words came out, and then she looked down at her feet. "I am sorry. How very selfish of me, to indulge in self-pity when others have suffered far more than I have, in so many ways."

A look of dismay came to Eomer's face. "I did not mean to suggest that—"

"No," she cut him off, "you are right. Most of my family lives, even after such a deadly war has been fought. I complain of my hardships when they are inconsequential to what others endured. I…I am glad you reminded me of my good fortune. I should never take that for granted. To do so is an affront to those who sacrificed more."

The sound of the door opening behind them broke into their conversation. Gamling hovered uncertainly there.

Eomer sighed. "I must return to my responsibilities now. Stay here as long as you like."

She smiled encouragingly at him, watching him join his Steward and re-enter Meduseld. Once the door closed behind them, she turned to the overgrown garden, hands on hip, as she determined how to proceed.

TBC

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	8. Resilience 8

**Chapter 8**

(5 Jun 3019 III)

The first night back in her own room passed better than Lothiriel had expected. She continued to sleep lightly, jolting awake at the smallest sound, or provoked by unpleasant dreams. Despite that, she felt more refreshed.

Rising, she quickly prepared for her day. There were still Riders eating in the main hall, and several greeted her as she joined them for the morning meal. Afterwards, when she spotted Gamling not looking very busy, she approached him about her plans for the garden and advised what she would need. He promised to have the tools set out before the noon meal.

That settled, Lothiriel tried to think what else she needed to do to prepare. Looking down at her hands, she realized it had been a while since she had gardened in earnest. It might be wise to procure gloves to wear while working. To that end, she went in search of Eowyn.

Gamling proved as good as his word – she saw gardening tools being carried out back as she was going to an empty spot at one of the tables for dinner. Eowyn had also managed to find gloves that would fit her and an apron to put over her dress to help keep it clean. Once she had eaten, she could get started.

Several of the Riders had been watching the gardening tools passing by. One commented idly to the others, "What is that about, do you think?"

"That is my doing," Lothiriel answered as she dished her plate with food. "The King has agreed to allow me to work in the garden out back of Meduseld. I will do what I can to restore it. I am afraid it has rather gone to seed. It is my project as I have not been a great help to anyone in other respects."

Ceorl eyed her approvingly, then asked, "Have you a hat? Rohan's sun can be strong if you are out in it very long in the heat of the day."

"Oh, no. That did not occur to me. But would not the wind carry it away?"

"I will get one for you," he offered. "There are some that tie under the chin, to hold them in place. I know where I can get one."

"Thank you."

Ceorl had arrived to the table before her, and departed first also. He was back with a hat in hand before she had risen to begin her task.

"This will be perfect," she acknowledged. "After the bright sun of Dol Amroth, I should have realized this myself. Thank you for thinking of it, Ceorl."

In his usual reserved manner, he merely nodded, but she detected his pleasure at her words. She excused herself, and with purposeful stride made her way to the garden. She was soon down on her knees and hard at work.

Lothiriel did not know how long she had worked, but the sun had moved substantially in the sky. More than that, though, when she stood, her muscles told her she had long been at this task – probably too long for a first outing. She was going to be very stiff and sore. Regardless, she had accomplished a great deal, between pruning and weeding and digging out around the bushes. There was plenty yet to be done, but it was a very good start. If there were seeds of the right kind to be had, perhaps Eomer would like flowers planted that might bloom before the winter. She wasn't certain what the Riddermark's climate would allow, but she could attempt it.

She tucked her tools into the pavilion, under the bench, and knocked the worst of the dirt from her hands and skirt. She ruefully surveyed herself. Somehow the gardeners at Dol Amroth were able to go about their duties, keeping the palace grounds beauteous, without looking like they had been dragged through the garden behind a horse. Lothiriel had never been able to manage that when she gardened. Her hair always came loose, and try as she might she couldn't keep the dirt on the ground and not on her clothing.

The sun was high enough that she should be able to wash, and perhaps even lie down briefly before supper. Using the rear entrance that Eomer had shown her, Lothiriel headed first for the Hall to find someone there to bring her wash water. Walking down the hallway, she was surprised by the sudden opening of a door, and then she was face to face with Eomer.

His right eyebrow quirked upward as he took in her disheveled appearance, and she flushed red with embarrassment. Her father would be mortified if he knew she were standing before Rohan's king looking like this.

Eomer saved her from explaining. "You got straight to work, I see." His mouth fought to supress his amusement, and there was an odd glint in his eye.

She made a face at him. "When I work, it shows! Now you know – if I am ever too clean then I have not done anything of consequence recently!"

He chuckled. "Ah! I shall keep that in mind." His hand started to lift toward a strand of hair falling across her face, but then stopped before touching her. Letting it fall back to his side, he told her, "There is a good hour before the evening meal. After you wash, I think perhaps rest would serve you well. You look weary."

"I am. I got involved in what I was doing and did not notice how long I kept at it. I am going to be stiff tomorrow, though hopefully not to the point it will prevent my continuing. Hereafter I shall try to be more judicious and not overdo my exertions."

He had turned down the corridor and both had started walking without thinking about it. At the door into the Hall, he said, "I will send water to your room. It will be there shortly."

"Thank you." She smiled agreeably and continued on her way, not noticing his gaze following her to her door.

The physical work, added to the restless nights, served to create a well-earned nap unmarred by dreams. The only difficult part was waking when the knock came at Lothiriel's door. Metehad advised that supper would be served shortly. "Do you need assistance, miss?"

"No, thank you, Metehad. Just let me put on a fresh dress and brush out my hair, and I will join everyone in the Hall."

The girl smiled and bobbed a curtsy before departing down the hall. Stifling a yawn, Lothiriel set about her preparations and was soon on her way.

Both Eomer and Eowyn were pleased to see that their guest was livelier, and talked eagerly about her endeavors that day and the progress that she had made. The siblings' eyes met, realizing simultaneously that taking on this work might have been the best thing for aiding Lothiriel in recovering her balance after the recent setback.

Eomer was kept so busy the next couple of days that he did not have a chance to go out and see the progress on the garden for himself. Usually by the time he remembered, darkness had already fallen. Lothiriel continued to report at meals, and Eowyn was clearly delighted at the effect it was having on the woman, but he did wish to see for himself.

A late meeting had kept him from joining the two of them for the evening meal, but on a whim, he turned toward the back terrace. As summer drew nigh, there was light longer in the evenings. Perhaps he would be able to get a glimpse.

To his surprise, Lothiriel was there. For a moment, he stood silently in the open doorway, watching her in the early twilight.

"The garden is coming along. You have done well, and far more than I ever expected." He hoped she would not deem his presence an intrusion on her reverie.

She turned slowly, blinking, then smiled. "I am glad you like it. The work has been good for me, but particularly I am pleased to finally prove worthwhile on your behalf. Until now, I have been little more than a guest in your house, when I meant to be useful."

He shrugged. "It is not necessary that you work while you are here. Your willingness does you credit, though I would expect nothing less from Imrahil's daughter."

She laughed. "You have learned quickly to understand him. My father always felt that he and his children should be useful to the people of Belfalas, not merely figureheads tucked away in the luxury of a palace. Of course, in Gondor, there are restrictions on what the nobility may do, but there are a few activities that are allowed if one but makes the effort to find them."

"And what do you do there?" he asked, moving past her to sit on the bench in the pavilion.

She mulled over the question. "It depends on whether one is man or woman. My brothers have all served as soldiers, and they were expected to put up tents or help cook meals just like the rest of the men. Elphir served onboard ships, having a preference for the sea, but Erchirion and Amrothos joined the Swan Knights." She smiled. "In case you had not noticed, both are very good horsemen."

"I did notice. And I noticed that the horses the Swan Knights rode were better bred than the animals in northern Gondor – sturdier, better trained."

Lothiriel nodded. "Father has always been exceedingly proud of our bloodstock. Actually, there is considerable blood of Rohirric horses in their lines. For several generations, whenever it has been possible, new stock was obtained from your land and merged with the existing lines, seeking to improve them. The most recently any appreciable number of horses was acquired was when Thengel served in Gondor. He arranged with friends to bring horses south for sale or trade. My father's battle mount is more than half Rohirric in blood."

"I had suspected as much. He had the look of our horses – points of his conformation and bearing, as well as his temperament. Our stallions tend to be of a somewhat easier temper than southern horses."

"You mean there is less danger they will take your hand off, given the chance?" Lothiriel asked laughingly. "If that is the case, send more!"

"Not all stallions are mean. Aggressive, yes, but not mean. The dangerous ones were never properly handled from the outset, and once their bad habits develop they are nearly impossible to stop – and it is risky to attempt it."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each with their own musings. At length, Lothiriel remarked, "The stars are different here. Or, at least, located in different places in the sky. Nevertheless, I can find Menelvagor and Valacirca." She smiled. "And always there is dear Earendil, brightest of all. Earendil is my special favorite – it means "lover of the Sea" in Quenya. We of Dol Amroth claim him as our own."

Eomer followed her gaze skyward. After several minutes, he admitted, "It has been long since I gave thought to the stars. They are there and guide our way, but mostly our eyes are turned to what is upon the earth."

She eyed him quizzically. "But you can enjoy beauty, for beauty's sake, can you not? Now that the worst of the evil is defeated, perhaps you will allow your eyes to gaze upward and see beauty, in addition to practical value."

His eyes met hers. He was the first to look away. Finally, he shrugged. "Perhaps. I think we must make it through the coming winter before I will be ready for that."

She had no response to his comment, so merely said, "Maybe you are right."

Somehow the conversation had ended on an unsatisfying note, though neither was entirely sure why it felt that way. It had been idle conversation, of no great import. How could that be dissatisfying?

Lothiriel shivered in the cooling night air, and looked toward the door. "I had best go in. The days may be warm, but your nights are yet chilly. I thank you for your company."

He rose. "I will come with you. I have tasks to do this evening that I should make a start on."

It was only after they parted ways, he to return to his study and she to her room, that he realized she had never answered his question. She had told him what her brothers did to be useful, but not herself. He was all the more curious to find out.

xxx

(10 Jun 3019 III)

A week had passed. More and more Lothiriel's gaze turned toward the front doors of Meduseld. Other than out to the terrace and the garden, she had not left the safety of this place in all that time. If she did not do it soon, she might never manage it. With the dagger Eowyn had given her nestled at her side, she felt stronger, more capable of her own defense, but she was not sure she was ready to test that against a determined opponent. And while she would like to think that danger had now passed, she could not quite shake the trepidation, the racing of her heart, when she pondered going out among people once more.

"Lothiriel, I have something for you." Eowyn crossed the hall, a wrapped package in her hands.

"For me?" she asked, turning from her bleak thoughts.

Drawing Lothiriel to the side of the hall for privacy, Eowyn unwrapped her gift. "It occurred to me that carrying a sword would be unusual for a woman of Gondor, or even a dagger, for that matter. But I think this will work for allowing you to appear all that is proper in Gondorian society, while also affording you protection."

Lothiriel's brow wrinkled as two silver hair pins were revealed. "I…wear hair pins occasionally, Eowyn, but they are not sharp like a dagger." She chewed her lip, hoping she had not offended the other woman with her dismissal of the gift's prospects.

"The kind you usually wear are not particularly a weapon, that is true."

Handing the wrapping and one of the pins to Lothiriel, she demonstrated what she meant. The pin was not a single, solid piece of metal. Instead, a small sheath had been created in which the pin was inserted. The sheath had a rounded end and would not be dangerous to her, but the pin itself pulled free to reveal a sharply-honed miniature dagger about five inches long.

"This is just a first attempt, of course," Eowyn explained, resheathing the blade, "but more could be made with different decorations – more ornate ones since you are most apt to need them at formal events. I just wanted to see if it could be done, and this is what the armorer turned out on his first try. He is going to fashion two others with varying designs."

"I…I do not know what to say! I am overwhelmed!"

Eowyn smiled, pleased that her gift was well received. "Even when you wear a cloak out of doors, these will be easy to draw without fear of them entangling in your clothing. And no one looking at you will be any the wiser as to what they conceal."

"Indeed!" Lothiriel laughed. "For all the attention my father and brothers pay to my hair, they will never realize I am armed unless I tell them!" With a grin, she set down the bundle she held and quickly threw her hair up into a loose bun to test the pin. It slid right in, holding the hair in place as intended.

"Success," Eowyn nodded, satisfied. "Now attempt to draw the blade. That might take practice or the sheath may come free with it. Perhaps we can anchor the sheath to the hair once it is in place, find a way to keep a tug on the blade from dislodging it."

Her assessment proved accurate – the sheath did want to accompany the blade, and it might not always be possible to get both hands to the device. "I am sure we can come up with a resolution, or a jeweler or armorer can for us," Lothiriel acknowledged. She paused, mulling it over, then said, "You know, I could also have decorative pins or cloak clasps of a similar design that would also conceal a weapon. Increase my options."

"Yes," Eowyn agreed. "A good idea. I am pleased I thought of this. It will be just what you need."

Impulsively, Lothiriel drew Eowyn into a hug. "Thank you, so very much, Eowyn."

xx

Somehow, the new hair pins made Lothiriel feel lighter, more at ease. She could not define precisely what it was about them to have that effect, but she noticed even without understanding it. Not that she intended to overly deliberate the reason, either. She was tired of being scared, tired of the trepidation that beset her. She hoped that before they departed for Minas Tirith she could learn the strength and confidence that Eowyn exuded.

She and Eowyn were the first to arrive in the small chamber they sometimes used for supper. While they could take all their meals in the main hall with the Riders and others who gathered, occasionally they found it nice to merely have a private meal where conversation could be less guarded. Their discussion wandered to various topics while they awaited Eomer's arrival.

"I am glad Faramir will get to marry for love and not for duty."

Eomer hesitated for an instant from taking his seat, wondering if he had come in upon a private conversation. He had not found them in the main hall and assumed they were eating here, but it had not occurred to him that his presence might be unwelcome. When neither woman paid him any particular heed, however, he sat down, reaching for the food dishes to serve himself.

"As am I," Eowyn answered, then cocked her head slightly with curiosity. "Do Gondorians not value affection in a marriage?"

Lothiriel sighed as she chewed the bite she had taken, then explained, "That depends. Among the common folk, that is a driving force behind marriage, but the nobility has other views. Bloodlines, wealth and power are not to be squandered lightly. They are to be used to improve the line, and either preserve or increase the wealth and power."

She took another bite as her companions pondered her remarks, and after swallowing, told them, "While Boromir lived, possibly Faramir could have managed to marry a woman of his choosing, provided she would not embarrass or shame Denethor's house. But with Boromir lost, if Denethor had lived and been forced to recognize Faramir as his heir, great pressure would have been brought to bear for him to wed soon and suitably, preferably a woman of his father's choosing."

Eowyn's eyes had narrowed at one part of Lothiriel's comments. She had heard vague mentions of Faramir not having a good relationship with his father. "You make it sound as though Lord Denethor had no interest in his second son," she observed testily.

Lothiriel shrugged. "Not a lack of interest, exactly. I was never entirely sure of the reason for the enmity between them; I seriously doubt it was Faramir's wish or fault. Whatever the reason, though, Uncle had long held him in low esteem. Even when Boromir championed him, Denethor did not take heed.

"Some asserted Faramir reminded him of his deceased wife and that was the cause, but Father said Faramir was far more like Denethor in looks and interests than he was to Finduilas. He tended to think Denethor disliked in Faramir the traits he disliked in himself, and saw Boromir as one whom they both should emulate.

"My brother, Erchirion, always said he suspected Denethor had made Faramir captain of the Ithilien Rangers in order to get him out of the City, and not have to deal with him very often. I know both my father and Boromir tried to make Denethor see reason, and to acknowledge Faramir's quality, but he was blind to any but his firstborn." Lothiriel smiled apologetically, knowing Eowyn was displeased by this view of a man she admired and loved.

"I met Boromir, when he stopped here on his journey to Rivendell last year. I will grant that he was a fine man and clearly an excellent warrior and leader of men – I could see it in his bearing – but I deem Faramir is his equal, perhaps even surpasses him in reason and compassion," Eowyn avowed.

"Indeed, and you would be right – even Boromir would have been the first to admit it. He sometimes bemoaned that he was the heir when Faramir had a better mind and temperament for it. It was only Uncle who did not see it. Maybe the burdens he carried, of guiding Gondor on the brink of a war no one believed could be won, clouded his judgement."

Eowyn was somewhat appeased by her words, at least convinced that others viewed Faramir as she did. The group ate in silence for several minutes before Eowyn ventured, "If the nobility marry for gain, as you said, does that mean you will be forced into a marriage of benefit?"

For the first time since he entered, Eomer joined the conversation. "Imrahil did not strike me as the ambitious sort of man who would use his children so."

Lothiriel grinned in amusement. "True, he is not, but then Father cannot require of us what he did not do himself!"

It was clear the others were anticipating an explanation of that statement; she accommodated them. "My grandfather, Adrahil, was quite a stickler for tradition, and he was pushing my Father to marry well and acceptably. Father was not inclined to court anyone just yet, but knew it would be a battle to avoid it. Instead, since he knew who his choices would be, he inconspicuously made it a point to get to know each of the ladies in question. He hoped to determine which one was least objectionable to him, if he could not find love with anyone he chose. As it happened, though, he became quite smitten with my mother, soon after becoming more closely acquainted with her. And, even better, her feelings were the same. Before my grandfather could make a choice Father would not wish, he asked for Mother's hand and approached his father for permission. Adrahil was too delighted to have him choose a wife, an especially appropriate wife, that he did not much care how it came to be."

She paused for a drink of water. "Unfortunately for Father, as we children were growing up, he delighted in telling us the tale of how he outfoxed his father. Too late did it occur to him that we might use that against him when we were of an age to wed!" The siblings chuckled, enjoying her tale.

Lothiriel continued, "With what Eothain has told me of our new King, I do not think he would compel Father to use us for advantage either."

"He would not," Eomer proclaimed. "I can assure you of that. Aragorn – Elessar – has no such pretentions."

"Well, Denethor surely would have. He had been eyeing me ever since I came of age, clearly calculating how best to make use of me in marriage. After I left girlhood, Father made a point of leaving me at Dol Amroth when he went to the City, making sure to keep me out of Denethor's sight. That is what Amrothos surmised, anyway, and though it upset me at first, being constantly left at home, when I matured more and better understood, I was grateful for his wisdom and foresight."

Eowyn was scowling disapprovingly. "I am not sure how well I will fare in a place that values women for little more than what they can barter them for gain!"

Lothiriel leaned back in her chair, pensively studying a tapestry on the wall. At length, she said, "Not everyone holds to this view. And maybe with this new king and his better attitude, if we trust your brother's opinion of his character, then the nobility possibly will learn a better way. They have never been challenged on it before, but I have not noticed in all my schooling that there is tale upon tale about marriages without any feeling behind them. Certainly, I think Father would encourage the King to set a better example. It may not happen immediately, but perhaps the practice will eventually disappear altogether except among the most determined families."

She grinned then, and glanced teasingly at Eomer. "But, I must warn you Eomer, beware when you are in the White City! A handsome young King who has no wife will be greatly sought after. You will be swarmed at every gathering by eager ladies wanting to catch your eye!"

Eowyn laughed loudly at the horrified look her brother wore. "She is right, Eomer. You were too distracted when you came to Mundburg after the War, but I noticed you had plenty of feminine attention. Aragorn, too. With many men lost in battle, they seek to find a nest before all the most desirable partners are claimed by others. They will come after you as tenaciously as wargs on the scent of prey, Brother!"

"I know how to contend with wargs," Eomer retorted gruffly.

Lothiriel smiled. "I do not doubt that you do, Eomer, but society will look askance if you skewer the ravenous ladies with your sword. I fear you will need to find more diplomatic tactics to employ from here on. At least while Gondor's King remains unwed, you will not have their full attention."

"That may not be entirely true," Eowyn interjected. "Aragorn is one of the Dunedain, blessed with long life. He is a man already ripe in years by common standards. That may temper enthusiasm for him as a husband, for who wishes to grow old and wrinkly while your husband does not?"

Lothiriel sobered. "Perhaps, but it would be preferable to living out your life alone if no other was available. And, as we have noted, far too many men were taken in battle. I suspect you have the same situation here – many women seeking a husband of the few remaining men. It is probable your brother will be sought after on more than one front. And I cannot say I blame the women. It may be different in Rohan, but life is hard for a woman of Gondor if she has no father, brothers or husband to look after her needs. Ladies of the common folk can seek employment, but the nobility is not allowed that choice." She sighed heavily, then softly added, "I was very fortunate that none in my family was lost."

Eowyn laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Do not fret. There may be hardship, but I am sure Aragorn will do all he can to see that those in need are given the necessities. He well knows what all sacrificed in this War that put him on the throne."

"That is certain," Eomer said. "Even while at Cormallen, he was already thinking about what rebuilding would need to happen – including the lives of his people. He was Chieftain of the Dunedain in the North. He has experience in seeing people through periods of hardship."

"I do not doubt your words, either of you, but I know all too well the challenge he will face in that regard. With our society being male dominated, only if a woman either has family to take her in and see to her needs, or there are no male heirs to lay claim to the estate of a deceased husband, can she be assured of a secure future. In the latter case, the women who achieve both security and freedom through inheriting their husbands' lands and property usually do not remarry. If they did, all of that would be forfeit to the new husband. Save for whatever dowry she brought into the marriage, she would give up any money or power that she had claimed."

Eowyn sighed. "Rohan is not quite so bad as that – a woman can own property in her own right. And all she brings to a marriage, either as dowry or from a previous marriage, remains hers throughout her life. But, the women of the Mark are seen in a specific light by the men, with certain expectations of them." She canted a glance at her brother, but did not explain her remark.

"Eowyn," he said warningly.

She tilted her head to the side and replied, "You would not have me tell the truth? Women may learn the use of a blade, but they are not permitted to freely make use of that training if they choose."

Eomer rubbed his face. "Eowyn, you have seen the face of war firsthand. For all our songs of glory and honor in battle, is that what you found on the Pelennor?"

His sister looked away, a troubled aspect to her face.

"I thought not," he persisted. "No man of the Mark wishes for any woman to know intimately the horrors found on a battlefield. Even we do not escape the nightmares, waking screaming as we refight unseen foes. If enemies crashed through that door right now and you drew your sword to fight, I would be honored to have someone so skilled with a blade fighting beside me, but I would never wish for you to have to do that. That is why men of the Mark seek to shield our women from such unpleasantness. It has nothing to do with your ability."

Impulsively, Eowyn reached out and laid a hand on his. "I know," she said softly. "At least, now I do. I did not see it before."

Lothiriel shifted uneasily in her seat. She wasn't sure how their talk had turned in this direction, but she felt like an intruder on a very private conversation. Nevertheless, she was glad to have witnessed the exchange. It helped explain the ways her father and brothers had treated her over the years, that she had not always understood at the time. And, it helped her to better know the siblings. Both had been friendly with her, but reserved. It was not easy to get to know them well when they concealed much of themselves. She knew more of Eomer from Eothain than from the man himself.

The subject of her musings rose from his chair. "It has been a long day. Goodnight."

Lothiriel and Eowyn murmured goodnight in response and watched him leave. After a moment, Lothiriel looked at the other woman. "I am sorry if I stirred up a topic with my conversation that was better left alone."

"No," Eowyn shook her head. "I should not have pursued it in a direction I knew would be touchy."

Lothiriel felt she ought to speak, to ease the distressed look on Eowyn's face.

"You know, there was a legend, that has come down through many years – I was told that it started with the Elves. I do not know if you heard of it while you were at Minas Tirith, or if the legend existed in your own land, but it said that no man could slay the Witch-king. If that is true, then you were needed on the Pelennor to fell him. If that alone came of your presence, then you should be lauded. But, according to Eothain, that was not all. You kept the foul beast he rode from rending Theoden's body."

She stumbled there, then drew a steadying breath to admit, "We heard them sometimes – the Nazgul. Their shrieks caused our very bones to feel as though they were melting within us. That you dealt death to one of those is beyond my comprehension, but it surely saved the lives of many men. Do not think your riding to war was in vain or without value, even if it was not as you expected or intended."

Eowyn almost seemed to be leaning on her words, trying to draw comfort from them. Lothiriel did not want to send either of them to bed on a black note. "Besides, I can never think it bad that you were there to meet my cousin so the two of you could find love!"

Eowyn smiled at that, and the sour mood broke. Finally, Eowyn merely told her, "Thank you."

TBC

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	9. Resilience 9

**_NOTE: Thanks to all who review. Remember, if you aren't logged in, I won't be able to reply to you. Even so, I do appreciate your taking time to comment._**

 **Chapter 9**

(11 Jun 3019 III)

The next day was gloomy and overcast, with threatening clouds that had slipped in during the night. Rain fell off and on all day. The weather, on the heels of the previous night's discourse made Lothiriel wish to cheer Eomer, with whatever might lighten his mind even the smallest bit. But he carefully made no mention of it and she was reluctant to risk making things worse by bringing it up herself.

The rain also meant that gardening for the day was not a choice. Though she inquired of Durucwen and Eowyn for an occupation, neither could think of any task to give her, so she remained at loose ends. Perhaps it was the gray skies, or just a culmination of several reasons, but Lothiriel's mood was as laden as the clouds glowering over Meduseld.

At length, she found herself out on the back terrace, along the wall of Meduseld where the eaves extended from the roof to provide shelter from the weather.

Eomer had spotted her restless wandering around the main hall after dinner, and then when she moved in the direction of the back terrace. He wondered what she might be intending; surely she would not attempt to garden in the wet weather. With his next meeting an hour away, he shrugged off the report he should be reading and followed in the direction Lothiriel had gone, to make sure all was well.

The rear door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open cautiously, ready to retreat if it appeared she did not wish for company. It took a minute to find her. He had scanned the garden and not seen her – a relief – and he could discern that she was not in the pavillion, though the angle from the door did not allow him to be certain of that. Then a slight motion drew his eyes to the right and he walked toward her slowly.

Eomer smiled, coming to a stop three feet away. "What is on your mind?"

At first, there was no answer, then Lothiriel blinked and looked at him. "Hmmm? What was that?"

"I asked your thoughts."

Her brow wrinkled. "How do you know I was thinking of anything in particular?"

He pointed to where she was chewing on her lower lip. "I have learned you do that when you are thinking."

She flushed pink, quickly releasing her lip. "My apologies. Father has warned me that it is a very unseemly habit," she confessed.

"That depends."

"On what?" She gazed more closely at him.

"On whether or not the thoughts are of any consequence. Still, as a soldier, I find it better to keep my features from giving away what I am thinking or feeling. Reveal nothing to an enemy that he might use against you," he explained.

She smiled. "Good advice, I would say. That may be why Father told me to banish the habit – it is best not to reveal too much at court or in politics either."

"Indeed." Eomer's face sobered. "It is disconcerting that I find myself using similar tactics with my advisers that I did in battle."

He stepped in beside her, and leaned against the wall, silently watching the rain with her. At length, she murmured, "I love the sound of water." A smiled played around her mouth as she added, "Even just this reminds me of the sea, and home."

Eomer let out a breath and nodded. "I am sure you miss it. But I did promise to see you safely home, and I mean to keep that promise. I am just sorry it has taken longer than you would wish."

"No, please, do not apologize!" she cried with dismay. "It was not my intent to make you feel guilty. I…I am just homesick. It feels as though I have been gone from home for ages."

"How long since you left?"

She sighed. "About six months. In winter, Father sent me north to the home of our cousin. Corsair attacks were increasing along the coast and I think he suspected that war might soon rage full out in Gondor. He did not feel there was any truly safe place, but probably the large cities would be the hardest hit – under the greatest attack. And with him and my brothers gone more and more, it seemed the safest place for me. Lossarnach somehow managed to almost remain untouched by all the darkness and evil, as though a bubble surrounded the valley and kept all that out."

"I have never been to Lossarnach. Nor seen the sea. You told me of it at Aldburg, though I would hear more. Amrothos described the sea as a vast field of glass, as far as the eye could see, but I cannot quite imagine that."

She laughed. "Actually, that is rather an accurate description – sometimes. In stormy weather it is a dark soup boiling in the cauldron of the seabed, or on bright sunny days glinting gold. Like the roof of Meduseld. When the wind picks up, it kicks the water into whitecaps – as though snow had fallen on them to paint a dainty top. It can be peaceful, awe-inspiring and fearsome, in turns, depending on its moods. I suppose I like that unpredictability of it. You never quite know what to expect. But you had best know your way around or it can squash you in an instant."

"It sounds like a number of spirited horses I have known. You learn their ways, their moods, the tiny warnings they give off, but if you are inattentive it can be very painful, even deadly."

She nodded. "Exactly that."

He smiled at her. Usually she was bubbling full of life, of enthusiasm. He had lost that somewhere along the way in his life. Did he describe things with relish anymore? He had already admitted to her that he long since had ceased noticing the beauty of the night sky. What else had he sacrificed to the practicalities of life?

He had fallen silent, but she had looked away, not requiring conversation. One more trait he admired in her. He shook himself. He had no leisure for fanciful notions; there was work to be done and it needed his urgent attention. Reluctantly, he straightened from leaning on the wall. "I must get back to it. There is a great deal I must accomplish before supper."

"Of course," she acknowledged, though he could not understand why he detected a note of sadness in her eyes. He purposefully turned away, refusing to let it distract him, and strode for the door. He forced himself to not look back.

Lothiriel lingered a while longer on the terrace, but now it felt colder and lonelier than before. If anything, the ache inside her had increased. Homesickness again, she supposed. But it would not be too long before she saw her family again. The realization did not comfort as she had expected, and she returned inside to warm herself by the fire.

xxxxx

The rain ended in the night and the ever-present wind helped the town dry out moderately by morning. Even so, the ground remained too damp for Lothiriel to return to the garden. Without activity to pursue, Lothiriel's restlessness returned.

It hadn't happened recently, but she chanced to enter the Great Hall for breakfast while Eothain was there eating. More often than not she came after he was already gone about his business.

She smiled warmly. "It is good to see you. I have missed our conversations." She settled on the bench beside him and reached for the platter.

He poured her ale from the pitcher and chuckled. "Blame the King for that. He has kept me quite busy of late. Our return to Gondor draws ever nearer."

She sighed. "Yes, I know. I am eager to go, and yet there is much I would wish to do here. I have heard many stories of the Hornburg and Dunharrow, but have not gotten to see them for myself. Ceorl pointed out the trail that goes up to Dunharrow as we arrived, and told me how King Elessar travelled that route to Gondor."

Eothain shrugged. "There is nothing to see, at least there isn't when we are not taking shelter at that spot. Mostly just empty land below the face of the mountain. But if you wish to see it, possibly it can be arranged. I will mention it to Eomer for you. The Hornburg is probably too far. You will simply have to visit us again if you wish to go there." He grinned teasingly.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "I just might do that, and then you will have to show it to me!"

"Gladly," he laughed. "At least the Deep is more interesting. The battlements of course, but behind them are the caves in the mountain. We call them Glæmscrafu, the Glittering Caves. Gimli and Legolas were quite struck by their beauty. Eomer has given them permission to return and visit later for a closer look. I am sure you would be similarly awed."

"Certainly. Any beauty so great it impresses an elf must be very great indeed!"

Eothain wiped his mouth and rose. "A good day to you. I should get going, but I am glad we had a chance to speak, however briefly."

xx

"Lothiriel wishes to see Dunharrow. Ceorl told her how Aragorn's company travelled under the mountain, going to the Pelennor by way of Pelargir. She would like to see our muster spot and the entrance under the mountain. Shall I take her?" Eothain settled into the chair opposite Eomer.

Eomer shook his head. "No, I need you here. There is a great deal to be accomplished before we return for Theoden and time grows short."

"Someone else, then? Ceorl, maybe? They are friendly, and there is little harm in the short journey."

Eomer hesitated. That she was willing to be with people, and showing an interest around her, was a good sign of recovery. He would not want to impede that. "Very well, if that is agreeable to Ceorl. But I want at least a party of six guards for the trip. Take no chances on her safety."

Eothain bit back a grin. "No, of course not. Now, then, you wanted to see me?"

"Where do we stand with the Eastemnet?"

"We have scoured the Wold for everyone that we could find, and will move them closer to the Entwade as winter draws near. You set up that small settlement before the war and we hope to pull everyone to that place, if they do not wish to cross into the Folde. Until the summer grass is gone, they rightly do not wish to give up the grazing for the herds."

"And the harvesting?"

"We managed to find workers who are now in the driest parts of the Westfold, cutting and drying the grasses there for winter feed. Then they will move to the Eastemnet and work around the pasture lands to cut more. Others are building sheds to house it near the Eastemnet settlement. We still have a couple of months ahead – if the weather is agreeable, we should be able to lay in a large supply. Hay will be the one thing we will have in abundance. Other foodstuffs, less so."

Eomer rubbed his face. "Well, that is a blessing, anyway. One less item to worry about procuring."

xx

Lothiriel watched as Eomer and Eothain finished their conversation at the far end of the hall. For all their solemnity, there was an underlying easiness that they had with one another. Aside from his sister, she never saw Eomer completely relaxed with anyone else. She had a feeling Eomer was going to need that friendship as he faced the challenges of his office as king.

The conversation ended, Eothain strode toward her, a grin splitting his face when he saw her. "Just the person I wanted to see."

"Indeed?"

"Eomer and I have just concluded our meeting for the day." He gestured back toward the king, who was no longer in sight.

Lothiriel's head cocked to the side. "You two are a wonder to me."

"How so?" Eothain asked, arching a questioning eyebrow.

"You and Eomer are very different. It strikes me as unusual for you to be such close friends."

"What you must remember is that most all boys, especially at Edoras, have common ground," Eothain explained.

"Horses?"

He smiled. "That, too, but I meant our culture and the way we have lived for many years. All men within ten years of our age grew up under the shadow of darkness. We watched our fathers, uncles, even brothers sometimes, train and ride to battle. Always it was understood that we would follow in their footsteps one day, take our place defending the Mark and our homes. While there were games we played that were not connected with fighting, mostly all that we did tended in that direction. We play-fought with swords, learned to shoot arrows, even from horseback, and many other skills that would serve as the groundwork of our later training to be soldiers."

He paused, then continued, "Eomer, more than most, was intent on perfecting his abilities. I think…I think maybe he thought he could be better than his father, and thus escape Eomund's fate."

"He has mentioned that his father was reckless," Lothiriel noted.

"Yes, but usually it served Eomund in good stead. There are times when recklessness works. In battle, you cannot always plan and strategize, figure the safest course to take. Quick decision-making is important. But rash decisions when your blood boils, and not having proper caution, is another matter. That was Eomund's undoing. Fortunately, Eomer has a more even temperament than his father, and it is not often that a hot head carries away his clear thinking. In fact, I have only seen it happen once – on the Pelennor, when he believed Eowyn dead. Had your father and his Swan Knights not ridden to our aid, we might well have perished."

"That is regarding battle. But you are genial and open, whereas he is quieter and uncomfortable with social discourse."

Eothain grinned. "Partly that is just our natures, but at some point every lad's blood begins to stir at the sight of females, and they are eager to more closely associate with those whose company they did not always enjoy. I am sure Eomer felt that the same as anyone else, but…I do not think he would allow it to distract him from training and honing himself. He felt too keenly the burden of being the King's nephew, and his responsibility to defend the Mark."

Shrewdly Lothiriel asked, "And was there perhaps a hidden reason – not wanting to put a girl in a position to that of his mother? At the risk of losing a loved one?"

Eothain shrugged. "Possibly," he conceded. "He has never spoken of a reason, but I know the deaths of his parents was heavy on his mind. All the ways it affected his behavior cannot be known for certain. Truth is, though, all warriors feel that concern – what will happen to loved ones left behind if we do not return. He would not be alone in that, only perhaps more determined to keep others at a distance to prevent it."

He sighed. "But I worry for him. Now that he is King, social interaction is being thrust upon him and he does not feel equal to it. Give him a battle to plan or a band of Orcs to fight, and he barely has to think what to do. Now he is faced with parties among the nobility of other countries and diplomatic relations as well. Those skills are foreign to him."

"He will do fine," Lothiriel said confidently, sounding surprised by her assuredness of that fact. Eothain was looking at her questioningly, so she added, "Already he has made strong friendships with Gondor's new King, and my father and brothers. True, those friendships formed on the field of battle, but they are friendships nonetheless and the basis of the diplomatic relations he will need. It should be far less fearsome to sit down with a friend to discuss politics, than with a stranger whose temperament and motives you do not know."

She licked her lips thoughtfully, then said, "And though I am not acquainted with my own new King, I do know my father. If Eomer requires guidance of any kind he is more than willing to provide it. You say even the new King seeks Father's counsel as he takes up his reign. Father has long been a ruler at Dol Amroth. He knows the ways of politics, and of dealing with the nobility. He knows those who are most likely to be ready allies and those who might prove troublesome. Father would not let a friend struggle if he had the power to help in any way."

"I am sure you are right, but in the meantime, _you_ need to take him in hand!" Eothain grinned knowingly.

"Me! What on earth do you think I can do?"

"Talk to him! He listens to you. He carries your ideas into his meetings and offers them to his council."

"What makes you think they are my ideas, and not his own?"

"I know Eomer's mind, and how he thinks. The suggestions he is making are not ones that would come readily to his mind, not without a nudge from someone else. And aside from his men and his relations, I have never seen him converse so easily with another person. Certainly not a woman, and particularly not a noblewoman of Gondor!" Eothain asserted. "Talk to him. At every opportunity, that he may become more comfortable with it. Perhaps it will make it easier when he must speak with others."

Lothiriel's cheeks pinked, but she replied, "If you think I am helping, I am glad to continue. I am sure you overestimate my influence. Still, I can tell him details of Gondorian society. That may prove useful to him when he is visiting."

"Certainly!" Eothain grinned knowingly, but made no further comment.

"At any rate, why were you wishing to see me?" she asked, seeking to change the subject.

"Oh, yes, Eomer says you may visit Dunharrow, but I will need to find someone else to take you. He cannot spare me just now. I will ask Ceorl to do it."

"Wonderful! But I hope I am not being a problem. That was not my intent."

"No, not at all. It is just that as we draw nearer to our return to Gondor, there is ever more Eomer wants to have done, and he relies on my assistance. Ceorl and a small party of guards can be spared for a day's outing easily enough."

"Well, thank you. But I will miss your company!" she teased.

"I am irreplaceable, I know!" Eothain laughed, spreading his arms in a self-congratulating manner.

She laughed. "Yes, you are that!"

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	10. Resilience 10

**Chapter 10**

As Lothiriel came down the terrace steps, she saw the small party gathered at the bottom. In their midst was a woman she recognized as serving in Meduseld, though she did not know her name or why she would be joining them.

Ceorl noticed her approach and came to meet her. "Lady Lothiriel," he said with a nod.

"Good morning, Ceorl. I appreciate your willingness to indulge me for the day."

"I did not mind at all, I assure you. Come, there is someone I would like you to meet." He guided her over to where the woman was adjusting the saddle on a horse. She turned to them when Ceorl called her name.

"Seftehad, I would have you meet Lady Lothiriel. This is Seftehad..." He paused, then said, "My betrothed." He flushed slightly with embarrassment.

"Indeed! An honor then," Lothiriel said, smiling at the both of them. "You are joining us for this adventure?"

Seftehad had bobbed a hasty curtsy, and now nodded shyly. "Yes. Ceorl anticipated you might like to have another woman along, and Durucwen was kind enough to let me out of my duties for the day."

"Excellent! But do not think you must spend the entire day amusing me. By all means, enjoy the outing with Ceorl as well. Aside from requiring a guide and someone to answer my questions, I do not need waiting upon."

For a moment, all just stood smiling at one another, until Ceorl said, "If we are ready, let us depart." He gestured to his right where a horse stood waiting for Lothiriel. To her relief, it was not the horse taken from the bandits. It was not the horse's fault, but she did not think she could ever look at it without remembering. She idly wondered what they had done with the animal.

Ceorl helped her to mount and get her stirrups adjusted. When he finished, everyone else had mounted. Ceorl did also and took his place at the head of the column for the departure. Lothiriel and Seftehad rode just behind him.

For the few minutes it took to get down the hill and through the gate, little was spoken in their party, all content to enjoy the early morning silence. Lothiriel used the silence to muse on the unusual couple of Ceorl and Seftehad. In appearance, they were completely different. She was a round, stout girl who probably was only a smidge over five feet tall, with bright red hair and freckles that massed her face and neck. Lothiriel could even see them on her arms where they weren't covered by the woman's dress. Conversely, Ceorl was tall and lean, with almost white-blond hair, eyebrows and beard. Still, she had seen the glint in their eyes as they looked at one another. Love it was, regardless of differences in outward form.

Seftehad turned out to be a chatterbox. Once her initial shyness slipped away, she rambled on about anything and everything. Lothiriel could not decide if it was a sign of nerves or just her nature, but certainly she passed along morsels of information of the sort Lothiriel would never have gleaned from Eomer or Eothain, or from Eowyn, either. None of the household gossip was off limits. Certainly it would be tiresome to listen to this on a constant basis, but Lothiriel found it an amusing diversion for the ride. The men were never very inclined to converse with her, even if they felt comfortable speaking Westron. Other than Eothain her ride to Edoras had been mostly silent for her part.

When they reached the path that turned up the mountain, Ceorl glanced back and Lothiriel caught a look passing between him and Seftehad. Apparently it was prompting her to curtail her chattering for after that she eased up. She was still willing to talk, though, so when they could ride side by side on the path Lothiriel asked about her life, what she did at Meduseld, and her pending marriage to Ceorl.

Seftehad sighed. "I have been trying to sew a new dress for it, but I am not sure I will finish before he rides to Gondor. I am not very good at needlework," she confessed. "I was hoping to surprise Ceorl with it," she said softly to keep Ceorl from hearing.

"Perhaps you would allow me to assist you," Lothiriel offered conspiratorially. "Ladies of Gondor are expected to know needlework, and are given _much_ practice at it." She made a face to indicate that it was not her most favorite pursuit.

Seftehad laughed, but when Lothiriel eyed her questioningly, she said, "You are serious? You would help me?"

"Of course. I do not have enough to do here, and I welcome the opportunity to give something back for all that I have received. Ceorl has been quite willing to answer my questions when I had no one else to do it, and was even willing to take me on this excursion. I should indeed like to help, if it would please you."

For once, Seftehad was at a loss for words, but finally she gave a small gulp and nodded. "Thank you. I would like that."

The fairly straight trail soon led to a series of switchbacks, that climbed the mountain. At each turning, there was an odd carved stone figure. "We call them 'Pukel-men', 'goblin men' in the common tongue," Ceorl explained, when they stopped briefly to rest the horses from the exertion. "You will see them at each turning of the road. The Druedain who lived in this area many long years ago carved them. I am not sure what their purpose was. It is said that in their own tongue they referred to them as 'watch stones."

Lothiriel cocked her head to the side as she examined the one standing next to her on the road. She mused, "I wonder what they originally looked like. These are so weathered, it is difficult to tell."

"I do not know for certain, but when we rode to Gondor, the Hobbit Merry was reminded of these when he saw Ghan-buri-Ghan, the leader of the Woses. They are supposed to be the last remnants of the Druedain." Ceorl straightened in this saddle. "We should get moving."

They reached the top just before the noon hour, and while the men set up a small camp and prepared a meal, Ceorl walked with Lothiriel and Seftehad, explaining how the location was used. "This is called Firienfeld," he told them, gesturing to a flat, grassy plateau on the eastern side of the valley. This is where the troops muster and camp." He pointed to each of three mountains, saying, "The Starkhorn, the Irensaga, and…Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain." The path they had ridden up continued on eastward across the plateau, bordered by uncarved standing stones, leading to a forest at the foot of the Dimholt.

"And where does the path lead?"

"Through the Dimholt – the dark wood – lies the Dark Door and the Paths of the Dead."

Lothiriel shivered. The very names of these places suggested the unpleasant history Ceorl had spoken of before. She turned away and walked toward the overlook down on the valley spread below, and the other two followed her.

"I can see why this would be your refuge when under attack," she commented at length. "It is extremely defensible. I am not sure any enemy could launch a sufficient assault using that road."

Ceorl chuckled. "Indeed! Not to mention that most of our enemies in recent years have been from Mordor. The orcs being afraid of the Pukel-men was a decided advantage."

She pursed her lips. "But how do you get enough supplies up here? Surely wains cannot traverse those sharp turns."

"Mostly pack animals. You are right about wains. The eoreds usually travel with remounts, to be able to rest their horses, or replace them if they are injured. Those horses also carry supplies that diminish as we go."

"Very efficient." She paused, then asked, "Have you had to use this retreat very often? I have heard mention of the battle at the Hornburg. Is not that a retreat also?"

"Not often. Most notably, other than recently, was during the Long Winter, when the Dunlendings managed to take over Rohan. The Hornburg serves as a retreat for the Westfold. King Helm led most of the Eorlingas there when the Dunlendings invaded, until Frealaf was able to drive them out of our lands. We use both or either refuge as needed." He paused, then added, "Theodred had his base at the Hornburg since he was Marshal over the West-mark, just as Eomer had his base at Aldburg in the East-mark.

"Before we rode to Gondor, we had our own battles. Eowyn led the people here while Theoden took the army to confront the wizard. That resulted in the recent great battle in the West-mark."

"Why did not everyone retreat to the Hornburg?"

"It would have taken too long. Most were on foot, or in small carts or wains. We rode hard to be there and set up our defenses in a single day. The enemy began their assault not long after midnight."

"And…Erkenbrand is now the Marshal of the West-mark? Was he not one of the men Eomer met with at Aldburg?"

Ceorl nodded. "Erkenbrand was the Lord of the Westfold and lived at the Hornburg. After Theodred was killed, he became commander there. When Eomer became king he made him Marshal of the West-mark."

Lothiriel sighed. "That is too common a tale, is it not? Battlefield promotion because a leader is lost?"

"Yes, unfortunately. But Erkenbrand had served and fought with Theodred for many years. He was well experienced, and deserving, when he took on that responsibility. I am only sorry it came at the loss of Theodred."

Lothiriel shook her head. "I do admire Kings and military leaders that know how to plan for battle and defense. I should be quite at a loss."

"It comes of training and experience – plenty of effort obtaining both," Ceorl answered quietly.

She met his eyes, then nodded. "Yes, you are right. A child is not born knowing about warfare. And, perhaps now, there will be fewer who must learn it."

Ceorl had grown increasingly restrained in his conversation. Finally, he admitted, "Forgive me…I do not like to speak of war and battles to a lady."

"I suppose we have all seen our fill of it, each in our own ways."

Lothiriel's attention turned again to the mountain behind them. "You say Aragorn went through the mountain on his way to Pelargir? How long did that take?"

Ceorl contemplated the question briefly. "He was moving fast, of course, but he left Dunharrow about the seventh and was on the Pelennor by the fifteenth. I do not know the road, though. Certain parts of it may have been quicker than others. I do not think there is an actual road for all of it."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Lothiriel's face but was quickly gone. "That is a pity. It might make for a quicker route between north and south."

Ceorl hesitated, then shook his head. "I would doubt that. The road passes under the mountain. The dwarf Gimli spoke of how very dark it was in there, even with torches. I would estimate it took them near ten hours, based on the stories I heard, and horses would not like traveling in blackness for long periods. I hear it was not easy to get the horses to go in. Certainly we Eorlingas wouldn't be comfortable. Even if Aragorn did free the ghost army and remove that danger, I doubt my people would wish to travel that road."

Lothiriel chewed her lip, then shrugged. "I suppose you are right. It was a thought, anyway."

Ceorl eyed her curiously for that remark, but she turned away without explaining it.

There was not a great deal more to be seen, as Eothain had warned, so they settled down for their meal and to rest before starting the trek back down the mountain. At the head of the trail, Lothiriel took one last regretful look behind her before nudging her horse into the descent.

Visiting the site had put a damper on the mood of Lothiriel's escort. Though Seftehad chattered periodically about trivial subjects, the men were quieter, not conversing amongst themselves to any great extent.

Dusk was coming upon them, and Lothiriel realized how weary she was even with their uneventful outing. Still, she had left Meduseld and spent the day with people, and that must be counted as progress toward her recovery. Even so, she was eager to get back, and looking forward to a hot meal.

Coming down the trail, Lothiriel caught periodic glimpses of Edoras when there were breaks in the trees. Unfortunately, she could not distinguish details in the gathering twilight. She had noticed a bright spot twice, but it appeared larger the third time she saw it.

She stopped her horse. "Ceorl, what is that?"

He looked back toward her, and then in the direction she was pointing. Seeing nothing, he turned his horse to move back up the trail and stopped beside her, looking over his shoulder from this vantage. "What?"

"That light, there on the…west side of Edoras. It looks to grow larger, maybe because we move toward it, but I cannot figure out what it might be. A cook fire, perhaps?"

Finally Ceorl saw what she was noticing and inhaled sharply. He looked at Cielbrand and spoke quickly in Rohirric. Then, to Lothiriel, he said, "Cielbrand will see you safely the rest of the way. I must ride on ahead." With that he turned his horse and hurried down the trail.

She watched him in puzzlement, then glanced back at Seftehad. "What is it?" she asked. "What is wrong?"

"Fire."

Lothiriel did not miss the note of fear underlying that single word. As they continued on their way, their pace quickened, and she realized that it made perfect sense. In the stone cities of her homeland, fire was also a danger – a danger anywhere – but with all of the wooden structures here, it surely was greater. The whole party was on edge as they hurried their return as fast as they dared in the gathering darkness.

A quarter of an hour later, they heard a frantic horn blowing in the distance. It sounded too near to be from Edoras, and Seftehad told her, "Ceorl. He is trying to alert them in case they have not yet noticed it."

Cielbrand added, "It would be suppertime just now. Everyone will be inside. If the fire is outside, it may not have been discovered."

Suddenly, a great many horns were blowing in the distance. Whether alerted by Ceorl or not, clearly they were aware of the fire now. The company breathed a collective sigh of relief, though the tension did not ease. Discovering it was good, getting it put out quickly was vital.

They rode through the gates into chaos. Well, frenzied activity at the very least – there was order to the rush of men with buckets. Cielbrand led them off to the less busy side of the road and quickly up the hill, not wanting to get in the way of the workers. Half their company split off midway up, returning to their stables lower on the hill. Only four continued to the top, including Lothiriel and Seftehad. Cielbrand took charge of their horses at the bottom of the terrace and sent them on inside.

Seftehad was looking around frantically for Ceorl, as she had been all the way up the hill. Lothiriel had noticed then and helped her look, but neither of them had spotted him. "I am sure he is fine," Lothiriel soothed the other woman. "No doubt he stopped to help with the efforts to put out the fire and we simply could not see him in the darkness. He will find you when he can."

Seftehad gulped, but nodded, choosing to believe Lothiriel's words though her stomach was less reassured. The two parted ways as Seftehad hurried off to find Durucwen and learn if she was needed. The main hall still had people eating, but it was rushed and they obviously were hurrying to finish. For a moment, Lothiriel was not sure why that was, but just then two men came through the front doors, assisting another man between them. Her appetite fled at the sight of scorched flesh, and she looked away, before hurrying off to her room.

Once there, she sat on the bed gulping in air. She could only assume that Meduseld was being used as a gathering place for any who were injured. That would explain why those eating were hastening their departure – they wanted to clear space.

Lothiriel sat there for nearly a quarter of an hour, then steeled herself and rose. The sight and smell was overwhelming, yes, but it was far worse for the injured. She could not sit here cowering in her room if there was anything she might do to help. Changing quickly into different clothes, she pulled on one of the aprons over it that she used in the garden. It had several pockets which might be of use, and it covered the front of her dress to help keep it clean.

Taking one last steadying breath, she opened the door and made for the hall. Already, several more injured men had arrived, as well as members of a family. She surmised the burning building might be their home and they had been hurt before escaping. Her stomach wanted to revolt at the sight of the worst afflictions, but she shoved such images to the fringes of her mind. It took concerted effort not to look toward the most severely injured and undo her control. After several minutes, she located Eomer and Eowyn in the hall. Trying to ignore the smell of smoke and injury, she waded through the crowd in their direction.

"Can I be of assistance?"

Eomer and Eowyn turned at Lothiriel's question to eye her uncertainly. "You know the skills of healing?" Eomer's question did not reflect confidence in the answer. He thought very highly of Lothiriel, and she had been ever willing to help whenever possible, but he could not quite imagine her tending the sick or injured.

"Well…no…not really. My father did not think that was an occupation for his daughter – part of the sheltering I have mentioned." She had never questioned her father's decisions before, but in the past six months she had come to think that perhaps that overprotectiveness had done her a disservice. One could not be protected from everything unpleasant in life. It must be dealt with, and experience made that easier to do. She straightened with determination. "But I have two able hands and a quick mind. I am willing to do whatever is needed that will help."

The siblings looked at one another, debating her offer. Finally, Eowyn said, "Thank you, Lothiriel. We can use every hand. Come, I will introduce you to the healer and he can assign you a task." Eomer started to speak, but stopped himself, and allowed them to depart from him.

The evening stretched on. Fortunately, most of those brought in suffered from all the smoke they had inhaled more than from worse injuries, but they were exhausted and soot-covered all the same. Cots had been set up and Lothiriel was assigned to these less needy patients, providing drinks of water, and helping to wash the grime from their faces and hands in order to make them more comfortable.

She had been working for over an hour when she spotted Ceorl being tended by the healer nearby. "Ceorl! You are hurt?" She set down the pitcher she was carrying and hurried over to him. He smiled reassuringly at her. "It is not very bad. A burning piece of wood struck my arm, but it is not serious."

"Seftehad has been looking for you. She is very worried. I will send someone to find her."

He started to protest, but then simply nodded, too weary to argue and eager to see his betrothed. After dispatching a servant to find the woman, Lothiriel returned to her duties, but keeping watch until she was sure Seftehad had been found.

After that, Lothiriel didn't notice the passage of time. Word had come that the fire was out and only two buildings were lost to it. Another nearby had been damaged, but could be salvaged. Those who were feeling better had departed for their own homes, leaving the crowd in the hall diminished.

"Have you eaten?"

Lothiriel jumped at the voice behind her, and turned to find Eomer eyeing her with concern. "Oh…no, I suppose I have not. At first I could not stomach even the idea of eating, but then we were all so busy that I put it from my mind. Now that you mention it, I am hungry. I have not eaten since dinner at Dunharrow."

The healer had overheard their conversation and interjected, "You have done enough, miss. Go and eat, then rest. I have sufficient help for now."

She hesitated, unsure if he was telling her the truth, but he smiled and reiterated, "Go!"

Eomer caught her elbow and gestured to his right. She nodded and set down the pitcher nearby in case it was needed and followed the king to his private dining chamber. He saw her seated and went to send someone to fetch a light meal. When he returned, she asked, "How late is it, anyway? I have lost track."

"Nearly midnight." He paused, then told her, "It proved fortunate that you wished to see Dunharrow. Ceorl tells me you were the first to spot the fire, and it had not been discovered until we heard his horn blowing. It might have done far more damage if it had gone undetected longer. It was on one of the backstreets, and most were indoors for the night already."

"Then I am glad I mentioned it to him. I did not know what I was seeing and was merely curious. Ceorl is the one who recognized it for what it was and hurried to sound the alarm."

Changing the subject, Eomer asked, "How was your outing? Did you see all that you wished?"

"Oh, yes, thank you for letting me go. Ceorl was very good at explaining the history to me, and it was fascinating to see the Pukel-men. He brought Seftehad to keep me company. I was pleased to make her acquaintance."

Eomer chuckled. "No doubt he also brought her so he might steal several hours with her as well. He will ride with us to Minas Tirith and be parted from her again for a month. It has been hard for them with him often away."

A servant arrived bearing a tray with a cold meal upon it, and set it in front of Lothiriel. She eyed the King when nothing was given to him as well. "You have already eaten?"

"Yes, before the uproar began." Suddenly, he blinked. "Oh, I forgot. A letter came during your absence. In all the excitement I did not think of it. Let me fetch it while you eat."

When he returned, he handed her the letter and resumed his seat, remaining silent while she read it. Around bites of food, she turned it over, noting her father's seal – she had expected he would write when he received Eomer's message.

 _2 Jun 3019_

 _My dearest girl,_

 _Words cannot convey my profound relief upon reading Eomer's missive informing us that you were found and safe. After surviving the war unscathed, I thought I should die from a far worse injury when I arrived in Lossarnach and learned of your abduction. We have been searching ever since for any clue as to your whereabouts. Indeed, Amrothos and Erchirion are still out with their search parties, but should return soon. I only arrived back in the White City yesterday and found the letter waiting for me._

 _While I am desperate to have you returned to us, I completely understand your not wanting to inconvenience Eomer when they will be coming to Minas Tirith in the near future anyway. Yet I will watch for you from sunrise on the day you are due to arrive._

 _Violence in Lossarnach, and not even at the hands of Mordor, is utterly appalling. It has always been the most peaceful of places. Old Borduin was bereft that he could not protect you, despite the near-fatal wound he suffered. Were it not for Belthoniel's skill in healing (you may know that her sister works in the Healing Houses), I do not think he would have survived._

 _What more is there to say except that I miss you greatly, as do your brothers, and we very much look forward to the day our family can all be reunited._

 _Your loving father_

She sat back, heaving a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness!"

Eomer's eyebrow rose questioningly, causing her to explain, "One of our cousin's servants tried to defend me against them, and they struck him down. Father tells me he has survived. Until now I feared he had not."

"He is a brave man to challenge them, even knowing it was hopeless. Your cousin is fortunate to have one so true in her household."

She reflected on this, then said, "Brave, yes, but also foolish. He stood no chance. I have never wanted anyone harmed on my account."

"That is understandable, but sometimes it is the right thing to do. If we do not stand against evil, then it runs rampant and many more are harmed."

She looked closely at him, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is true. I did not see it in that way."

He stood. "I have final tasks to see to ere the night ends. Finish your meal and take your rest. It has been a very long day for you. Thank you for your help."

She smiled tiredly and resumed eating as he departed.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

END NOTE: Until now, in many of my stories, including a couple of times in the Elfwine Chronicles, I have made use of the Dimholt as faster passage between Rohan and Belfalas. While it is true that Aragorn and company made that trip at need, even with the Dead being gone, discussions with Certh and further reading lead me to conclude it is not a viable route on a casual basis. Parts are steep and difficult to traverse, and even Gimli who was used to the darkness underground commented on how very dark it was through the mountain passage. Neither did the horses want to go into the tunnel and had to be persuaded. I will not attempt to go back and correct earlier stories that have made use of this route, and that includes in the Elfwine Chronicles – for continuity sake, it will remain a possible route. But going forward, future stories will be accurate to the actuality.


	11. Resilience 11

_**NOTE: Another long chapter. And, for those of you who are fans of Lialathuveril's writings on this site, you might enjoy her original works also. She published her first book some time ago on Amazon (possibly other places also), and the new book comes out today. Just search for Lia Patterson to find them both, if you are interested. Yes, this is rather promotional, but I've read both books and very much enjoyed them. If you know her work, you know its quality. And you can read a sample before purchasing if you have any doubts.**_

 **Chapter 11**

(14 June 3019 III)

Not surprisingly, Lothiriel slept far into the morning. Eowyn or Eomer must have instructed the servants not to disturb her, for the sun was well up when at last she rose. It had not seemed as though her exertions had been terribly strenuous the previous day, but apparently the cumulative effect had taken a toll. She decided she would try to have a leisurely day and then go back to working in the garden. And she wanted to seek out Seftehad, too. They could arrange to work on her dress. Perhaps they could start that since sewing should not be tiring.

Most of the injured from the previous night had already departed, though the cots had not yet been put away. The few who remained had been moved over to the side and surrounded by screens to afford privacy.

Breakfast was long over, but as dinner was not near enough, she ventured to the kitchens to get bread and fruit to tide her over. Seftehad was there, cutting up vegetables for the stew at noon day, and Lothiriel settled into a chair to talk to her while she worked and Lothiriel ate.

"Ceorl is well? He said his injury was not serious, but men will never admit when they are hurt."

Seftehad laughed. "True. But he is well enough. The healer cleaned and bandaged it. He said for Ceorl to return tomorrow to have him take another look and be sure it is not infected."

"So, when would you like to meet and work on your dress?" Lothiriel asked, popping the last bite of bread into her mouth.

Seftehad hands stilled over her work. "You were serious about that?" She did not look at Lothiriel.

"Of course I was! You need help, I can sew and Ceorl has been very kind to me. Three very good reasons for me to offer my assistance. That is, if you wish it. Perhaps you prefer to do it entirely on your own?"

"Oh, no!" Seftehad whirled to look at her. "I should indeed like your help, would be very grateful to have it. Much as I wanted to do it all on my own, it has not been going well. Either I let someone help me or I give up on the dress entirely. At the rate I am going, I will not finish it before both of us are dead and gone."

Lothiriel smiled. "I doubt you are that bad, but perhaps I can guide you sufficiently that you may do most of it yourself, at least enough to satisfy you."

"I…I am done working around three this afternoon. Ceorl will not be finished with his shift until suppertime. We could meet in between."

"That would be fine. After yesterday, I look forward to a less arduous day. I may simply read until then, or do the mending I managed to talk Durucwen into giving me. Where shall we meet? In your room or mine? Or I could see if Eowyn would let us use her sitting room. There is a large table in there."

"I share my room with two others. It is crowded if they are there, and I would not want to displace them. I could come either place that you prefer." It was evident to Lothiriel that Seftehad was reluctant to impose on anyone.

Lothiriel stood. "I will speak with Eowyn and then let you know where we will work. I am looking forward to this! Mending is needful, but sewing wedding clothes is simple pleasure!" Seftehad beamed at her before turning back to her work.

That settled, Lothiriel wandered back to the main hall in search of Eowyn. She was not in sight, so Lothiriel continued out to the terrace for the fresh air. The smell of smoke yet hung in the air, though she could not discern any sign of smoke rising from the direction of the burned ruins. She wondered what would become of those who were displaced by the loss of the buildings. She had heard that at least one of them was a home.

Voices drew her attention and she spotted Eomer at the foot of the stairs talking to a group of men. He appeared to be giving instructions for a moment later they nodded and departed. Eomer began the climb up to Meduseld, only noticing her when he was nearly to the top.

"Good morning. I hope you slept well."

Lothiriel smiled and nodded. "I did, thank you. And thank you for allowing me to sleep in. I was more tired than I realized."

"Yes, it catches up to you unexpectedly after such events."

"What happens now, with the buildings that were lost?" she asked.

He turned to look down the hill, presumably toward the destruction. "They have already begun to pull down the burned timbers and haul them away. Once the area is cleared, we will rebuild. We will need every available building to get us through the winter. We cannot afford to lose those."

"One was a home. What were the others?"

"A small stable off the house and a neighboring storage shed."

"Do they know what caused it?"

Eomer sighed. "It is not certain, but we have seen similar fires before. Likely it was caused by hay that was harvested before it was fully dry. Fortunately, there was not a great deal of hay in the barn so there was less fuel to feed it."

Lothiriel's brow creased. "Damp hay caused a fire? How is that possible? I would think the moisture would prevent it."

"No. Heat is generated by the fermenting that happens. The drier the hay is when stacked, the less chance that will happen. But it is not always possible to get hay as dry as we would like due to changing weather. Sometimes we must gather it early or risk getting it soaked and mildewing."

"What of the people who lived in the house? Are they safe?"

"Yes. They were able to escape unharmed, other than breathing in the smoke."

Lothiriel frowned. "If it is not one problem, it is another. It is unfair that you should have to cope with this in the midst of all your other worries."

Eomer smiled at her. "I thank you for your concern, but unfair or not it is all a part of life. A life we are very familiar with in the Riddermark. These situations are not as uncommon as you might think."

"Well, if there is aught I may do to be of assistance, please do not hesitate to make it known. I feel guilty sitting idle when all around me have their hands full with work to be done."

Eomer looked down. "I know you have been frustrated by that. It is just difficult for us to feel comfortable asking for your help. We are too used to doing for ourselves, and rather disinclined in particular to beg help of a noblewoman of Gondor if we can manage on our own. I realize it is strange to you."

"Then you must stop thinking of me as a noblewoman of Gondor. Eowyn is to marry Faramir, who is my cousin. That makes me a cousin to Eowyn. Since you are her brother, that also makes me a cousin to you. Surely you would not refuse to let your cousin help you, would you?"

Eomer laughed loudly, drawing the gaze of the door guards for the unexpected outburst. "I cannot deny you have interesting reasoning. I will see what I can do, Cousin, to make more use of you!"

She curtsied to him. "Thank you!"

He nodded farewell and moved on inside Meduseld, still chuckling. The sound lightened Lothiriel's heart. If she could not do anything tangible to help, she was pleased to at least provide the king with a spot of humor as a respite from his troubles.

xx

Lothiriel almost missed hearing the hesitant tap at the door. Looking up, she smiled at Seftehad, standing uncertainly in the doorway. "Come in, come in!"

Seftehad seemed overwhelmed at entering Eowyn's sitting room for other than household duties. To distract her from any discomfort, Lothiriel reached for the fabric in her arms and spread it on the table. "Now, show me what you had in mind."

With a pronounced blush, Seftehad produced a piece of paper from her pocket. "I…I sketched it out. But it isn't turning out like the picture."

Lothiriel smoothed the paper out on the table and eyed it critically. "You draw quite well," she commented with slight surprise.

The blush deepened in Seftehad's cheeks. Red-heads were not good at hiding their emotions. "Thank you."

Once she had the general idea, Lothiriel set the paper aside and spread out the material to see what progress had already been made. The initial outline of the various pieces were cut, though not entirely symmetrically. As yet, nothing had been stitched together – that was good. It would allow her to tidy the pieces first. She picked up the back section and held it up to Sefethad's back. "Hold these," she instructed, indicating where the pieces came up onto the woman's shoulders. Next she picked up the front piece and matched it to the back. Slowly she began pinning so as to know where to make the cuts yet have the pieces fit in the finished dress.

They had worked for some time before Lothiriel stopped and sat down, studying the picture Seftehad had drawn and the material the woman was wearing over her clothes. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, then said tentatively, "I am not sure we can precisely follow what you envision on paper. If we did, it would make the dress quite snug, and I do not think you want to be fidgeting with your clothes on your wedding day."

"But it is over other clothes now. Wouldn't it be looser on its own?"

Lothiriel shook her head. "Yes, somewhat, but not enough. I will need to make cuts to even the pieces and that will make it more snug."

Seftehad's face fell, but Lothiriel waved her over to join her at the table. With a pen from Eowyn's desk, she made indications on the drawing. "We could leave the sides open, and close them with laces on each side. You will be wearing it over your undergown anyway. And, with laces, if you were to have children they could be adjusted to allow for your expanding middle, making the dress more functional to you after the wedding."

It was evident that Seftehad continued to be disappointed at not being able to create exactly what she had imagined, but finally she nodded. "I am sure you know better than I do about stitching and sewing. If you say that would be better, I will trust your judgement."

They worked a while longer, but as it was nearing suppertime and they had reached a stopping point, they decided to continue the next day. Since Eowyn had graciously said they could use the sitting room as long as they liked, Lothiriel set all the material and sewing tools at the ready for the next session before they departed.

As the two women were returning to the main hall, they heard horns blowing. Lothiriel glanced at Seftehad questioningly, but she only shook her head. "I don't recognize them. It does not sound like our horns. Maybe someone is coming to visit?"

When they stepped into the hall, a messenger was coming in the front doors and making for Eomer and Gamling who had entered near the throne. The two women stood watching to see what was happening. In the midst of the conversation, that they could not hear, Eowyn arrived and went to join her brother. An instant later, all three headed for the main doors, with the messenger trailing behind them. As they drew near, Eowyn signaled for Lothiriel to come with her.

"I will let you know what I find out," she whispered to Seftehad before hastening to Eowyn's side.

"We have unexpected visitors," Eowyn said as they moved along. "A great riding of Elves has appeared from the north."

"Elves? Why would they be coming here?"

Eowyn shrugged. "We do not yet know the particulars, but… Well, we shall find out soon enough."

Lothiriel wondered what she had been about to add; she suspected that Eowyn had a pretty good guess as to the occasion of the visit.

Eomer had taken up position on the terrace, and Eowyn and Lothiriel fell in on his right hand. A servant turned up just then, bearing a tray and the welcome cup that Lothiriel had seen before, and whose purpose had been explained to her.

They could see from this vantage that there were quite a number of Elves, but most did not enter the town itself. Instead, they looked to be setting up a camp north of the barrowfields. A small group had split off from the main body and was riding all the way up to Meduseld.

Lothiriel had never seen Elves in person before, but even from a distance she could tell that all she had heard about their fabled beauty was not exaggerated. In particular, there rode a dark-haired woman, sitting serenely next to an older man. These two were flanked by a couple with golden and silver hair, and the woman was almost equally as beautiful as the darker one. For a moment, their magnificence made Lothiriel want to avert her eyes, even while they were riveted on the visitors.

At first unnoticed, when the party stopped, they realized a pair of men – twins – rode behind the foursome. "Elladan and Elrohir" Lothiriel heard Eomer murmur. Apparently not all of these surprise guests were unknown to the king.

"They rode with Aragorn," Eowyn whispered to her in explanation. "He called them his brothers."

Ah. Eomer had mentioned them before, though not given their names.

The party had dismounted and was walking – no gliding – up the steps, for Lothiriel did not recall ever seeing anyone move as these Elves did. Were their feet even touching the steps?

One of the twins stepped forward to offer introductions. "Eomer King, may I present my father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and my sister, Arwen. Also, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lorien, my grandparents. This is Eomer King, ruler of the Riddermark."

Arwen dipped a graceful curtsy as Elrond nodded, saying, "My apologies for this intrusion. We travel to Minas Tirith from Lorien, and Edoras was on our way. My sons wished us to stop and give greeting."

"You are most welcome, I assure you. How many of your party require rooms? I will have that seen to immediately."

Elrond replied, "If you can accommodate me, my daughter and my in-laws, my sons are well able to stay in the camp with the rest of our party. We do not wish to burden you with our visit when it was not expected."

"Friends are never a burden," Eomer assured them. He gestured to Eowyn, who stepped forward with the welcome cup, offering the traditional greeting. After each of the Elves had drunk, she stepped back and Eomer introduced, "My sister, Eowyn, and Lady Lothiriel of Dol Amroth."

"Dol Amroth?" one of the twins asked. "Daughter of Imrahil?"

"The same," Lothiriel said smiling. "And you are?"

"Elrohir, and my brother Elladan. I forget that only Eomer has met us before, though we did glimpse Lady Eowyn at Dunharrow, and some once or twice at the White City. But how come you to be here?"

Lothiriel chewed her lip while trying to think how to answer, but Eomer interjected, "A rather long story, my friend, and one that can be told when we are all more comfortable than standing on the terrace." He gestured toward the doors, "Please, come inside and I will have refreshments served while your rooms are being readied."

Eomer led the way, but Eowyn pulled Lothiriel aside while the Elves followed the King inside. "Do you mind sharing my room again temporarily. We do not have a great many guest rooms in Meduseld, and since Eomer has not yet moved into the King's chambers, we have even fewer."

"Of course. I will get my clothes and move them directly while someone changes the bed."

Since it was very near to suppertime, only drinks were served to the Elves, and they settled in Eomer's study for quiet conversation. When Lothiriel joined them, she rather wondered if it bothered Eomer to lose time he had intended to spend working, but if it did, he gave no indication of it. Indeed, at least with the twins with whom he seemed well acquainted, he was obviously quite pleased by the visit. The other Elves were quieter and participated less in the conversation, though their keen manner suggested they missed little of what was going on.

At length, Eowyn voiced what all of the Rohan party had been wondering. "What brings you to the Riddermark just now? I had not heard mention that you were expected in Gondor, but perhaps you wish to go and join in the celebrations of victory. Faramir's last letter indicated they were still taking place, though less frequently and less boisterously."

"We are expected in Gondor only by one person. Though perhaps it is more a hope than an expectation," Galadriel observed, providing no real answer to the question.

Arwen laughed. "I sent the banner. I am sure he knows that I will come in due course, though the date might be in question."

"Aragorn?" Eowyn asked, knowing full well she was correct.

"Yes," Arwen said, gazing at her perceptively and causing Eowyn to glance away.

"The dwarf Gimli spoke of you, while he was here, though he believed you were departing with your kin to the Undying Lands. He indicated the green stone Aragorn wore was a gift from you."

"In a roundabout manner, yes. It was passed down to me from my grandmother" – she nodded toward Galadriel – "and then I returned it to her that she might give it to Aragorn when he stopped in Lorien."

"You go to be wed," Eowyn stated, certain though no one had said it explicitly.

"I do." Arwen did not bandy words.

"Then he will be pleased. And a queen beside him will help as he takes on the role of King," Eomer interjected before a lull could make anyone uncomfortable. He did not notice the grin that flickered over his sister's face at his remark.

Lothiriel still found herself in awe of such companions. Elves were from legends, not those who dined with you and shared quiet conversation. For one thing, though, she was grateful – that neither of the twins rebroached the subject of how she came to be in Rohan. If they must ask, let them do it when she was absent. She was not comfortable with that discussion.

xxxxx

It had come out the previous evening that the Elves intended to remain a full day, to rest themselves and their horses, before continuing on their journey. Elrond, Celeborn and Galadriel mostly kept to themselves after sharing the morning meal. As the twins had not come to join them, that would leave Eomer free to work, if Arwen was attended to also. Knowing Eowyn had plenty to do, Lothiriel offered to show her around Meduseld and the town, and it was clear the siblings appreciated the gesture when Arwen accepted.

They began with Meduseld, though there was not a great deal more to be seen than what had already been glimpsed in passing. The tapestries had garnered interest the previous night and been explained to the guests, and they had seen the entirety of the main hall. Lothiriel did lead her along the hallway pointing out any communal rooms.

"This is Eowyn's sitting room," Lothiriel indicated through the open door. "I am sure you are welcome to make use of it while you are here."

Arwen strolled past her to where the fabric was laid out. "And what is this? Eowyn is sewing a dress?"

"Oh, no. One of the servants will wed soon, and was making her dress, but she does not sew well. I offered to help her. Eowyn lets us work in here whenever Seftehad is available."

Arwen picked up the picture from the table. After studying it and then looking over the fabric, she remarked, "You drew this picture?"

"No, Seftehad did that. I am not one for drawing."

"Surely this is not the dress you are making. There is not enough fabric."

"No. Had I met Seftehad sooner, before she attempted to cut out the dress herself, it might have been possible, but with the corrections I needed to make it would not work. What you see is the compromise I suggested for using her fabric, but making it suffice as an overdress."

"As a servant, it is doubtful she will have material of good quality to make a fine underdress to go with it."

Lothiriel was beginning to realize that Arwen was well familiar with the intricacies of sewing. "That is true. If I had any of my own dresses here, I would offer one of those to her. But, as it is, I am wearing clothing borrowed from Eowyn. I do not like to impose more on the King's household by begging further favors."

Arwen straightened and smiled at her. "Yet the desire to offer is commendable." She began moving toward the door, and Lothiriel took that as her signal to continue on with the tour of Meduseld.

Their walk through the town proved nearly as uneventful, save for all the curious looks from townsfolk.

"You are quite at home here," Arwen noted with a smile. "I might have expected a woman of Gondor to find this place too foreign to her experience."

"It is different, yes, than what I knew at home. But the people have been most welcoming and generous. Difference is not necessarily bad. Hopefully, as the King's wife, you will find that to be true as well."

"Indeed!" Arwen's eyes lit with amusement. "For me and for the Gondorians. But, eventually, I feel sure we will all become accustomed to one another."

Lothiriel smiled. "It is not as though we do not have tales of Men long associating with Elves throughout our history. Perhaps we are not used to it being a common occurrence as it once was, but neither are we complete strangers to one another."

"True. You perhaps more than most? I understand that legend has it your ancestors included an Elf."

"So it is said, though there is no proof for or against it. And the fact that we have a few similar characteristics lends it credence. If the old story is true, we are descended from an Elf-maiden named Mithrellas from Lorien."

A twinkle lit Arwen's eyes. "We could inquire of my grandmother. I have heard that she once dwelt near the Bay of Belfalas, and was acquainted with the Elves of Lorien who traveled to the harbor there."

Lothiriel laughed. "I do not know if I dare. Depending on her answer, I might make myself an enemy to those who wish to believe the stories!"

"You are not one of those who wish to accept it?"

"It is unimportant to me." She shrugged. "I am no Elf, regardless what my ancestry may be. If I have traits in common with the Eldar, then I am complimented, but beyond that no one would ever deem me one of your people."

Arwen smiled warmly. "That is very sensible of you, but have you no romantic notions? That is usually the reason people choose to favor such tales."

They continued walking as Lothiriel pondered the question. "I do, and I am flattered by the comparison, but I do not like to claim what is not rightfully mine. What have I done that the Elves might think me worthy to be one of them? Nothing. I have no great deeds or accomplishments in my life. Should I take credit for something over which I had no control or choice?"

"Very wise. If we will be praised let it be for our own merit."

Arwen's visage was inscrutable, a characteristic Lothiriel was beginning to think was common among Elves. While they could be very expressive when they chose, they were also very good at concealing their thoughts through an impassive air and ambiguous word choices.

To Lothiriel's relief, it was nearing the noon hour and Arwen suggested they return to the Hall. There was a disconcerting way about the Elf that prevented her being entirely comfortable in conversation with the woman. During the walk back up the hill, Arwen was silent and Lothiriel tried to pinpoint what it was that she found so unsettling. The woman had been perfectly friendly. It was more…the sense that Arwen saw and knew things about Lothiriel that could not have been learned in their short acquaintance. She had sometimes heard stories of Elves with foresight. Could Arwen possess that, and have knowledge of where Lothiriel's path was leading? Whether she did or not, it made her uneasy when Arwen scrutinized her.

Over supper, Elrond advised, "We will leave very early tomorrow, before first light. Please, make no special effort to see us off. We are well able to depart quietly without disturbing anyone. And then we shall see you again when you come to Minas Tirith."

Eowyn and Lothiriel shared a look, and then Eowyn suggested, "At least let me show one of you the way to the larder where you may get food to eat before being on your way. Though I am sure I could arrange to have a meal prepared for you."

"Do not trouble yourself." Galadriel had spoken little to any of them since arriving. They were startled by her doing so now. "Fruit and cheese will suffice, and we have lembas if we become hungry again later. Elrond assures me that he knows where our horses are stabled. We will be fine seeing to our own needs."

Eomer glanced at his sister, then told them, "As you wish. But should you change your mind in the morning, or find you require anything not at hand, there are always guards available. I will make sure they know to accommodate any of your requests, even to waking me or Eowyn if we have not risen."

xx

The Elves were as good as their word. They were gone well before dawn and even Eomer was not yet out of bed. The guards had witnessed the exodus, but they caused nary a ripple in the household at their going.

At breakfast, Lothiriel learned that they had also made themselves useful during their 'rest stop' at Edoras – many had assisted with the work of removing the burned buildings and framing timbers for the new structures.

"It saved us at least a couple days of work," Ceorl told her. "Eomer King was reluctant to allow it, but they insisted, and certainly the help was of great benefit to us."

"I have noticed that Eorlingas are reluctant to allow anyone to help them," Lothiriel teased, but Ceorl was regarding her remark with complete seriousness.

Finally, he replied, "We do not like to ask help of…outsiders. We are well willing to allow help from our fellow Eorlings. I suppose we simply do not like to feel indebted to others, and we prefer to take care of our own."

"Perhaps you should not see friends as outsiders. I know that in our recent history trust and friendship across borders has been tested. But now that the war is won and old ties renewed, surely we can all extend a helping hand, to anyone in need," Lothiriel said. "At least, I would hope that is true, or will become so. I have made good friends since coming to Rohan. I should not like to think any of my new friends could be suffering, and I would not be allowed to assist them if I had the means."

Ceorl eyed her pensively, then nodded. "Hopefully we will gradually begin to deem distant friends the same as those close to home. But I do not believe our thinking will change quickly in that regard."

He had finished his meal and rose. "Good day."

"Yes, good day to you also, Ceorl."

Most of the others were slowly finishing and going off to begin their day as well. She had in mind to work in the garden this morning, then perhaps Seftehad would be free in the afternoon that they could get back to sewing her dress. She quickly ate the last of her meal and hurried off to her chosen task.

It was good to be back in the garden again, but she took care to moderate her activities to keep from being overly tired later. With an effort, she managed to curb her tendency to overdo in her enthusiasm. The garden was shaping up very well. She needed to ask Eowyn about winters in the Mark, to determine what might be planted now without being killed by cold. Gardening was easier at home where she knew all the intricacies of weather that might affect her work.

Lothiriel had just washed and was returning to the main hall for dinner, when she again heard horns blowing. Every head in the hall turned toward the doors in curiosity. These sounded like the horns Lothiriel heard announcing Eomer's arrival, and she wondered who might be visiting now. She did not think Eomer had left the town – it would not be his return they were heralding.

A messenger entered the hall and went to meet Gamling, and Lothiriel waited to see what would happen now. To her surprise, Gamling looked up and and straight at her, a slight smile tweaking his mouth. He nodded to the messenger and then hastened off toward Eomer's study. Peculiar behavior, but she was hungry and no doubt would find out soon enough what was happening.

She had just poured ale for herself when Eomer and Eowyn entered and gestured for her to join them. Taking a hasty swallow of her drink, she rose. They were already moving toward the terrace, not waiting, leaving her to trail out some distance behind them. As she came to a stop beside Eowyn, she asked, "Who has—" Just at that moment, her eyes caught a glimpse of the banner the visitors bore, one she knew quite well – a silver swan-prowed ship on a blue field.

She searched the approaching riders, assuming it was her father, but only spotted Erchirion riding among the Swan Knights. Good enough. She tore down the steps as fast as she dared, not waiting for them to reach the top of the hill, or bothering with any decorum. Eomer and Eowyn would understand.

Erchirion nearly fell off his horse in his haste to reach her and they embraced one another fervently. No words were spoken; they were not needed just then. Without their notice, Eomer and Eowyn had joined them at the bottom of the steps, and when it was clear the reunited siblings would not release one another soon, Eomer chuckled. "When the two of you are done with your greeting, the rest of us will be waiting inside. Dinner is being served, if either of you cares about food just now." He turned away with a grin, dispatching men to get the riders and horses cared for, then dispersed the crowd of people that had gathered. The reunion did not require an audience.

The pair did finally draw back from their embrace, and Erchirion studied his sister's face, relieved that she looked calm and at peace. He had not been certain what the harrowing experience might do to her, but she appeared to have done well in coping with it.

Lothiriel smiled up at him and stepped to his side, wrapping her arm around his. "Come inside. We will eat and talk. You must tell me what all is happening in Gondor. Eomer and Eowyn told me what they could, but they have been gone from there for months now."

In the hall, several riders called out greetings to Erchirion, remembering him from being at Minas Tirith and he acknowledged them with a wave. Lothiriel led him to a table separate from where the others were seated, and then fetched plates of food over for them. When she returned for mugs of ale, she told the curious riders, "You may have him later – he is mine first!" They laughed in understanding as she went back to the other table.

Around their meal, they caught each other up on the events of recent months. "Amrothos and I were still out searching for you when Father received Eomer's letter. We did not learn of your safety for another couple of days. I understood why Father was willing to let you return with the Rohirrim next month, but I could not wait that long to see for myself that you were well. I convinced Father to let me come with a small party of guards."

"It was not necessary," Lothiriel assured him, "but I am pleased to have you here all the same. Our northern friends have taken excellent care of me ever since we first met. Have no fear."

"I do not doubt that, though I am surprised you did not want to come directly home. Surely Eomer could have spared someone to bring you."

"Erchirion, it was my decision, not Eomer's. If I had truly wanted to return at once, he would have accommodated me, but I could not justify taking away men he needed here. And I certainly could not be so ungracious as to not offer my assistance in any way possible."

Eomer came up and seated himself with them just then. "We have greatly benefited by your sister's willingness to linger in Rohan. She has offered suggestions for our recovery, restored Meduseld's garden and even helped to tend those injured during a recent fire. And now she is assisting someone with a dress."

Lothiriel blushed. Eomer was exaggerating her accomplishments, but she decided not to argue the point. She returned to her meal to avoid having to speak.

Erchirion's eyes flicked between his sister and the young King who had turned to smile fondly at her. Interesting. Praise. Blushing. Fond gazes. Obviously more had happened in the past month than had been mentioned by either. Watching them carefully, he realized that was because neither seemed to have acknowledged more existed between them, even to themselves. Well, certainly Father would not be disappointed if this all ended with a marriage. He had liked Eomer; they all had. And it would be a good match for Lothiriel. He could not say he had ever been thrilled with her prospects among the noblemen in Gondor. There was nothing particularly wrong with them exactly, but he just had never felt that any of them suited his sister. Seeing the easiness between her and Eomer was…satisfying. Yes, this could have a very pleasing outcome.

"Then I am glad that you stayed, Lothiriel, but tending the injured? When have you ever known about healing?" Erchirion took a bite of bread, watching her closely.

She blushed again. "I have not, as you well know, but I was needed, therefore I made myself available. I am perfectly able to follow instructions from those who do know about care of the injured." She wrinkled her nose at him.

Eomer chuckled as he rose again. "Indeed. And sometimes willing hands are of the most use. But, if you will excuse me, I must get back to my advisors."

The siblings murmured goodbye as he moved away and then went back to their conversation. Just as they finished their meal, Eowyn joined them. "A room is ready for your brother, Lothiriel. The room just to the right of yours as you face the door. His baggage is already there."

"Thank you, Eowyn." Looking to her brother, she asked, "Do you wish to rest a while, or shall we walk about town and let you see the place for yourself?"

"Oh, certainly, I wish to see Edoras," Erchirion replied, rising. "Lead the way."

Summer was clearly upon them; the sun shone brightly above and the ever-present wind was now welcome as they strolled along. Even having not seen one another for several months, Lothiriel found it surprising that they never lacked topics to discuss. News from Gondor was of course welcome, but she drank in whatever her brother told her of home and her family. If anything, Erchirion's presence made her miss their family all the more. She would have expected it to ease the homesickness rather than making it worse.

When finally they turned back toward Meduseld, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Erchirion watched his sister from the corner of his eye whenever he could. She was changed, though he was not sure he could point to a specific difference. She had perhaps matured, as would be expected with all she had been through of late, but it was more than that. Perhaps with further observation he could determine what it was that he was noticing.

Lothiriel guided him on a quick tour of the Meduseld hall before leading him to his room to wash and get settled in. She continued on to her own room, remembering once she was inside that she had intended to spend the afternoon working on Seftehad's dress. With the return to Gondor fast approaching, the loss of another day was disppointing. Tomorrow. She would definitely make sure she worked on it tomorrow. Now that he had been shown around and they had talked, Erchirion could manage on his own.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	12. Resilience 12

**Chapter 12**

(17 Jun 3019 III)

It had been easier than she expected, leaving Erchirion to his own devices. At breakfast, they sat with the riders and he renewed acquaintances. Since he was eager to see how the military and defense was conducted in Rohan, he gladly accepted their offer to tag along during their day to see it firsthand.

That settled, she caught Seftehad's eye and they arranged to meet after the noon meal was finished and Seftehad was at leisure.

"I am sorry that the arrival of my brother interrupted our work. I will see if I can speed things along today." Lothiriel led the way into the sitting room.

"Oh, do not feel bad – of course you wanted to spend time with your brother after being apart from him for so long. With all you are doing for me, I can hardly begrudge you that!"

"What is that?" Lothiriel had only been half listening to Seftehad's reassurances, her mind on the work they were about to do, but now she had glimpsed fabric draped over a chair. She might have thought Seftehad had put it there, but the material was far too fine for that to be the case, and it was not something Eowyn would have either.

"I don't know, but there is a note," Seftehad said, pointing to paper pinned to the fabric.

Quickly Lothiriel unpinned it, and read the short missive, before smiling and handing it to Seftehad. "It is for you."

"Me?" As Seftehad took the note, Lothiriel picked up the dress to get a better look. "What…what does it say?"

Lothiriel had forgotten that although many in Rohan could speak the Common Tongue, few could read or write it. "She is giving you this dress to remake as your undergown."

Seftehad gasped. "The woman who will be Queen of Gondor gave me a dress? But, why would she do that?"

"I think perhaps she wishes to contribute to your wedding day. When I was showing her around Meduseld, we came here and she saw your drawing. I explained how we were not able to make the dress as you envisioned. She commented that you should have a fine underdress, but did not mention a gift forthcoming. I suppose she wished to surprise you." And, Lothiriel guessed, perhaps Arwen felt the woman would be less embarrassed if the gift were not given in person.

"I…I can't believe it!"

Lothiriel rubbed her hand over the dress. It was the softest material she had ever felt. "I had heard that the Elves were exceptional in all crafts, and that their clothing was beyond compare, but I have never had occasion to see for myself until now. This is marvelous!"

Seftehad glanced away, then said determinedly, "Then you must have it. A lady such as you would better suit it, I am sure."

"Nay," Lothiriel laughed. "It was a gift to _you_ , and I shall not undermine my Queen's kindness!" Turning away, she ran a hand over the material again and then added, "Oh, this will be wonderful! It will make a gorgeous underdress for you, and perhaps that will help you be less discouraged that we could not make your wedding dress exactly as you wanted."

Impulsively, Seftehad hugged the other woman. "Thank you for all you have done, for all you are doing! I am disappointed that my vision will not be realized, at least not in this dress, but you have made it better than I could have hoped for by my own hand."

Lothiriel smiled as she returned the hug. "You are very welcome. Now, then, let us get to it. If you hope to marry Ceorl before he rides with us to Minas Tirith next month, we must get busy on this dress."

"But…the Elf, she is thinner than I am. I do not think a dress of hers will fit me."

"Thinner, yes, but taller. There will be extra fabric that will need to come off the hem. We can do insets with that if necessary, and since it is the underdress they will not be seen."

Seftehad beamed. "Do you really think so? Is it possible?"

"It is very possible, and I feel sure I can manage it. Now, to work!"

Lothiriel had quickly discovered it wasn't that Seftehad was a poor seamstress, but more that she had simply never been well taught. With the proper guidance and correction, she had become quite adept at sewing seams as Lothiriel pieced fabric together and pinned it.

Before they went any further on the overdress, Lothiriel considered it best to refit Arwen's gown for Seftehad. They would need to be sure to make any allowances necessary. While Lothiriel continued cutting the remaining pieces on the outer dress, she set Seftehad to picking apart the side seams of Arwen's dress. Shortly before Seftehad was required back in the kitchen for supper preparations, they did the initial fitting of the dress to see what adjustments would be needed. Shortening, of course. Though rounder than Arwen, Seftehad's bosom was smaller – that helped with the fitting of the upper part. As it also happened, Arwen's gowns were not fitted, but tended to drape loosely over her form. That gave them far more leeway than they had expected and reduced what alterations needed to be made.

Lothiriel stood back and surveyed the dress on Seftehad, then slowly walked in a circle around her, tugging and checking as she went. When she was back in the front, she was beaming. "Excellent! This is going to be easier than I dared hope." She did a mental calculation. "Eomer said we would leave for Minas Tirith in early July. That leaves us just slightly over a fortnight. If you will sacrifice a couple of your evenings, I think we can have your wedding clothes finished within the week. You should be ready to marry Ceorl just after that, giving you at least a week together before he has to leave."

Suddenly Seftehad looked nervous. "So soon?"

Lothiriel raised a surprised eyebrow at her response. "Is that not what you wish?"

"Oh, yes, yes! It's just…I suppose I have been long anticipating it and now to finally have the time be near is a little…alarming! Yes, I will come any evenings you wish to work on it. I _do_ want to marry Ceorl, and as soon as possible."

Lothiriel smiled. She supposed she could understand being nervous after enduring the wait. Often the reality could be a little frightening after all the dreaming was done. "Tonight, then? We might as well continue with this. I find if I put off tasks, that something tends to interfere later. Best to get it done right away, if you can."

"Yes, tonight!" Seftehad agreed, smiling happily. "Oh, this is so exciting! I am finally to be a bride!" Again she impulsively scurried forward and snared Lothiriel in a tight embrace. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

With a laugh, Lothiriel assured her, "I have very much enjoyed it, and to see your pleasure makes me even happier to have helped. Now, then, I think you probably are needed back in the kitchen, but come and find me when you are done and we will get back to it."

Eomer's day was progressing less successfully. He and his advisers had been in council all morning, and he was beginning to chafe at it. Earlier, when they had truly productive discussions and made worthwhile plans, he had not minded. Now they had drifted into bringing up unimportant topics. Yes, eventually, they would require his perusal, but there were more urgent concerns just now. They wanted to discuss establishing trade relations with Gondor when their attention should have been on more immediate needs. It would be a long while before they were in any position to do appreciable trading!

"My lord…"

Eomer looked up at Madalwin. The man had been one of Theoden's advisers for years, before Grima had managed to cut the king off from everyone but himself. Eomer had never particularly liked the man, but he hesitated to make too many changes to procedures this early in his kingship. Surely these men knew better than he how difficulties should be handled.

"Yes?" he asked, reluctantly.

"Sire, the Lady Lothiriel is—"

Eomer raised a warning finger to silence the man. He could guess where this was leading. He had seen Madalwin eyeing Lothiriel speculatively. He knew all too well that these men were eager for him to take a wife and begin producing heirs. Could they not see that was not of great importance just now? He did not deny that Lothiriel was amiable, and he might eventually even consider her for his wife, but if they were to survive long enough for that to happen, his attention must solely be on the Mark's recovery. Frivolous pursuits would have to wait.

"No. Do not attempt to take our discussions in that direction. I am well aware of your notions regarding Lady Lothiriel. But right now food and clothing and shelter to get us through the coming winter are all we should be planning. Once that has been accomplished, then – and only then – will I listen to other suggestions. Are we clear on this?"

Madalwin's frustration was evident on his face, as it was on others' also, but he nodded and subsided. "Yes, my lord."

"If we are done, you are dismissed."

He watched the men rise and slowly depart. He was tired, very tired. Had it been like this for Theoden? The constant worry, the sleeplessness at night as his mind harried him, rethinking every problem and possible solutions? His uncle had never seemed as spent as Eomer felt, but surely he had, at least occasionally. The Riddermark had been through rough patches before and Theoden had looked confident in dealing with issues as they arose. He rubbed his face. Theoden had been raised for these challenges from an early age, Eomer had not. Yes, he'd had lessons and learned Sindarin and manners that befitted the king's sister-son, but Theodred had been the one to endure the endless meetings and planning sessions. Eomer…Eomer had gladly escaped across the plains on horseback. Only now that was not an option. There was no riding away from his problems.

Madalwin's attempted conversation drifted back into his thoughts and brought Lothiriel to mind. He smiled. At least he had good friends, those willing to help. He knew he could count on Aragorn for aid, and even before he met her, he had claimed most all of Lothiriel's family members as friends also. The new Steward of Gondor, soon to be Eowyn's betrothed, he knew less well, but he suspected he would be able to call the man brother. His sister was not given to admiring simpering men; he was sure Faramir would prove agreeable on closer acquaintance.

And Lothiriel…Lothiriel was all eagerness to help, though he had not made good use of her presence at Edoras. When he spoke of her accomplishments to Erchirion yesterday, he had been sincere, but it did make him realize how he had failed to make use of her. Well, fortunately, she had offered help and suggestions whenever she could, without his asking. And they were good suggestions, not silly ones that he might have expected from a Gondorian noblewoman. She didn't try to make the Mark over in the image of Gondor, but only suggested practices from her homeland that might work here.

Lothiriel. Truth was, in other circumstances, he might… He sighed and shoved to his feet. Yes, in other circumstances, but not now. His attention must stay riveted on the Riddermark and her needs. Lothiriel, or anyone else, would have to wait.

xx (Jun 20)

For the next few days, Erchirion usually spent his days with friends among the Riders, and Lothiriel persevered on her garden by day, and sewing in the afternoon and evening. Even more quickly than she had hoped, the dress was nearing completion. Ceorl had thanked her most warmly, one day after dinner, for all her efforts, but particularly for her thoughtfulness to Seftehad.

"One sister is the only living family she has left, but she lives in the Westfold and they rarely see one another. I know it has filled that void that you were willing to help her prepare."

"I assure you, Ceorl, I have enjoyed every moment, and I am very pleased to contribute to your forthcoming wedding."

That same afternoon, she determined they had achieved their purpose, and the dress would be ready with just one more afternoon's worth of work. That freed Seftehad to turn her after-supper efforts to other preparations, and gave Lothiriel her first unscheduled evening.

With everyone scattered to their own pursuits, the Gondorian siblings had not often seen each other. Most of Lothiriel's suppers had been hastily eaten before she hurried off to renew her sewing efforts. Upon Erchirion's arrival, Eowyn had decided they should separate themselves and eat in the dining chamber set aside for the use of the king and his family. Tonight would be the first in a while she could enjoy a leisurely supper with her brother and friends, and she arrived at the table before the rest of the party.

When Eomer came in a couple of minutes later, it was to find Lothiriel already there but no one else. She was lost in thought, but looked up at his entrance and asked an unexpected question.

"Do you dance, Eomer?" She tilted her head to the side curiously.

He shrugged. "Not if I can avoid it, no. It is not a pursuit I enjoy."

"Perhaps, but now you are King, and will eventually be in want of a wife. I fear you will be called upon often to participate, whatever your inclination," she observed.

"Exactly what I have been telling him!" Eowyn said, strolling into the room to join them. "Third Marshal Eomer could do as he pleased; Eomer King cannot!"

She came to stand in front of her brother, hands on hips, but spoke to Lothiriel as she held his gaze. "Lothiriel, will you teach us Gondorian dances? I will have to know them as Faramir's wife, and Eomer may as well get busy and learn with me. We have you and Erchirion here to teach us, and I found a minstrel who was at Minas Tirith – he learned the music while recuperating in the Houses. We will practice each evening."

Her tone was edged with finality, and Lothiriel restrained a laugh, waiting to see how Eomer would respond.

At length, he sighed. "If it means you go off to wed Faramir and leave me in peace, I suppose I should do this." He turned away, and Lothiriel wasn't sure whether he was truly annoyed or only pretending to be. Either way, Eowyn was not apologetic.

"Good. We can begin tonight. I will go invite Heorleod to join us after supper." She swept out of the room without a backward glance.

"Er, my apologies for putting you in this position, Eomer. I was thinking about what Erchirion had told me about all the celebrations at Minas Tirith – for the victories and then the return of the King. It made me think that they will soon be celebrating anew once Arwen arrives to wed King Elessar. I suddenly realized how long it has been since I danced, and then I saw you. I was merely curious."

"No, it is fine. Eowyn has been haranguing me about this lately. I knew sooner or later she would force the issue. If anyone is to blame, it is your brother – his arrival gave her a stronger argument!"

Lothiriel laughed. "I have accused Erchirion of a number of things, but never of making someone learn to dance!" She chewed her lip, then added, "I know it is not your preference, but you _will_ find it useful."

"I know," he sighed, taking a seat. "And probably now is as good as any. To the extent that I could, I have tried to avoid working in the evenings. This will be both useful and give us amusement besides merely talking." He eyed her. "Do _you_ like to dance?"

She laughed again. "I do. It is one of the acceptable forms of exercise for well-bred young ladies in Gondor. There we are not encouraged to ride or learn swordsmanship. We are meant to stay indoors, delicate flowers embroidering decorative pillows, overseeing immaculate households and providing a child or two to our husbands. Indeed, we are nearly as decorative as the furnishings of our homes."

Erchirion was entering as she spoke and raised an eyebrow. "There is gardening."

She wrinkled her nose at her brother. "Yes, an utterly fulfilling and all-consuming occupation for us. And it is assumed we either like or want to do that since there is little other recourse."

He frowned. "I have never heard you complain before. What has gotten into you?"

She shrugged and looked away. "Perhaps I have just seen that life can be different than that, and I find such a restricted life…wanting, in many respects. I do like gardening, and sewing, but I like a good many other activities as well. Doing considerable riding of late, I have found that I enjoy it, and—" She hesitated, suddenly thinking it might be wise not to mention Eowyn teaching her to use a dagger. "And I intend to continue riding whenever I like once we return home." If her brother noticed that she had changed course on what she started to say, he gave no indication of it.

Settling at the table, he looked more closely at her. "I am sure you will be allowed to ride, if that is what you choose. Just remember when you are home that it is not like Rohan, and there are expectations for the manner in which the Prince of Dol Amroth's daughter conducts herself. Whatever else, I do not think you wish to embarrass Father."

She looked down and nodded. "You are right. I would never want to do that."

Thinking it wise to turn the conversation, Eomer remarked to Erchirion, "I hope you are looking for exercise. My sister has decreed that we should learn Gondorian dances, and you have been chosen to help accomplish that. Tonight, in fact, after supper."

Erchirion laughed, then gave a shrug. "It is wise for you to learn. And you need not look so put out by it, Eomer – it is an excellent excuse to make the acquaintance of any lady that catches your eye. At the same time, it spares you having to indulge in a great deal of conversation, making it all the easier to escape when the dance ends. Were Amrothos here, he could show you a tactic or two on how to work a room full of ladies to your best advantage."

In spite of himself, Eomer chuckled. "I have no doubt Amrothos possesses that sort of knowledge, but I do not have an earnest desire to learn those skills. Eorlingas are too straightforward for frivolous games."

Erchirion arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps, but when one seeks to meet eligible ladies with an eye toward marriage, dancing is the least onerous means of accomplishing it. You may well find it to be a very useful tool."

"I am not in search of a wife just yet, Erchirion, and do not expect to be in the near future. When I am, perhaps then I will not object to my sister's interference."

Lothiriel joined in then. "You are not bride hunting, Eomer, but Gondor is fond of dancing at its gatherings, and as an honored guest it will be expected of you. There is value in it now for you, if only to satisfy expectations. At least a handful of dances will satisfy the demands on Rohan's king when he visits us."

Much as he did not like to admit it, Eomer suspected she was right about that, and with Eowyn's wedding on the horizon that would surely prove to be an occasion requiring it of him. If for no other reason, he would yield to their entreaties. "I suppose." Further than that, he would not commit.

Eowyn returned then, followed by servants bringing in their food, thus attention turned to the supper being laid.

For Eomer, the meal ended far too quickly, and the minstrel arrived soon after. They adjourned to his study, as he had no wish for an audience to his stumbling efforts. He wasn't surprised that Lothiriel paired her brother with Eowyn, explaining it was easier if at least one member of the couple knew the steps. Heorleod began the first tune at her signal, and she and Erchirion walked their partners through the steps several times so they could become familiar with the pattern. And then they had to actually dance it from beginning to end.

Normally, Eomer judged himself a fairly quick learner, but he felt distracted. Something about Lothiriel tonight kept pulling his attention from what he was doing, and then his steps would falter and he would have to look at Erchirion for guidance as to the next movement. Once or twice Lothiriel gave him an odd look, perhaps puzzled by his unexpected clumsiness, but never commented on it.

Erchirion was not as restrained. "I confess I am surprised, Eomer. I would have expected this to come more naturally to you than it seems it has."

He turned slowly, giving himself a chance to form a response. "It has been long since I danced, my friend. There have not been many occasions for frivolous activity in recent years, and most of my waking hours were spent riding across the Mark, keeping her…safe." His face clouded and he glanced away.

Lothiriel stepped into the awkward silence of this pronouncement. "Yes, but you move well. I do not think it will take long for you to become familiar with the steps and move more confidently. We have nearly a fortnight before we depart. Plenty of opportunity for both you and Eowyn to become…well, maybe not proficient, but hopefully at least comfortable. I would not have you on the dance floor fearful of missteps making you look foolish."

Erchirion followed her lead. "Not that Faramir is apt to notice if Eowyn struggles. The man is utterly smitten, Sister! You will not believe your eyes when you see it!"

Lothiriel grinned. "I look forward to it, and he is most deserving of joy. Certainly he has good reason in Eowyn." She canted a sly glance at her friend, causing Eowyn to blush. Turning to take Eowyn's hands in her own, she added, "Too long has he struggled in his brother's shadow, when he is more than admirable in his own right. Now, as Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, I hope to see him find peace with a lovely wife and many fine children."

Impulsively, Eowyn drew her into a hug, causing Eomer's brow to raise. Eowyn was not known for being warmly familiar with others, especially not other women. It was surprising, but also pleasing, to see it. He was glad she would already have at least one friend there when she went to make her home in Gondor.

He caught a glimpse of Heorleod, patiently awaiting their instruction. He had been very accommodating with his playing, and Eomer decided they should cease to impose on the man for this night. "My thanks, Heorleod. We will resume tomorrow, if you are available. You have been most helpful."

"My pleasure, lord. A good evening to you all." Heorleod bowed, and departed to the sound of their farewells, as they gathered for another glass of wine.

For a while, they quietly conversed until finally by mutual agreement they called it a night. In her room, as Lothiriel prepared for bed, her musings returned to the dance lesson. It had gone well, she had not exaggerated that, though Eomer did not appear fully focused on what they were doing. To herself, she could admit that she had been somewhat distracted also. The movements were so familiar to her that she did not have to give them more than scant awareness as she made passes down the hall or circled her partner and the other dancers.

No, surprisingly, she had found herself more conscious of Eomer than usual. When they had come face to face at one point in the dance, an inexplicable warmth had spread inside her. She felt very…comfortable with Eomer. She was this at ease with her family members, certainly, but she did not recall ever experiencing it with anyone else. After her recent experiences with the kidnappers, she had learned just how unpleasant a man's gaze could be when looking upon her. Naïve though she was, she could well guess their intent as they had allowed their eyes to roam over her body, even if they refrained from touching her. With Eomer, however, his looks were never invasive or lecherous, and she trusted that they would never become so, making her want to run or hide, making her feel defiled. She involuntarily shivered just remembering the way her kidnappers had eyed her.

Repeatedly, both he and Eothain had stood between her and harm, forming an impenetrable fortress around her. Part of her ease with Eomer surely was attributable to the numerous times he had come to her aid. She would trust both her life and her virtue to either man. And yet, where Eomer was concerned, there was more, and she could not find the words to even explain it to herself.

She shoved the ramblings from her mind. They were friends – naturally she would feel as she did. There was no reason to marvel. She must call it a night. She and Seftehad had a long list to complete tomorrow in order to finish, and she wanted to be well rested for a full day ahead.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	13. Resilience 13

_**Note: If you are interested in two pictures of dresses that are similar to what I had in mind for Seftehad's dress, look on my Profile page for the Pinterest link to the Elfwine Chronicles board. You can also see pictures of the idea behind the hairpins that Eowyn gives Lothiriel.**_

 **Chapter 13**

Lothiriel had felt inactive and unhelpful all these many days, but now her days were crammed full. Gardening occupied her morning, then sewing all afternoon and dancing lessons in the evening. At least she felt justifiably tired, when she tumbled into her bed at day's end. She had never realized that tiredness could be a good feeling, carrying with it a sense of accomplishment. She had been tired before, but that resulted more from boredom and too much idleness. Productive activities were a far more enjoyable and interesting way to spend her days.

The dress was finished the next afternoon, and Lothiriel had joined Seftehad and a couple of her friends in making the other preparations – deciding what else she would wear, how her hair would look and preparing for the meal to be served to their guests. It was only to be a small gathering, though anyone in town who wished was invited to witness the couple speaking their vows. Eomer had given permission for them to partition a corner of the hall for their wedding meal.

The only other wedding plans Lothiriel had ever been directly involved in were when her older brother married his wife. She had not yet reached twenty years of age, and was pleased to be included. Usually it was just the bride's family and friends who attended her, and with no sisters or female cousins, Lothiriel was inexperienced with the practice.

Though that had been her one and only chance to assist a bride, it was of no help to her now. Gondor's traditions were not the same as those in the Riddermark, not to mention the differences between noble marriages and the wedding of common folk. But the giggling girls gathered for the preparations were a cheery bunch, and Lothiriel was delighted to be invited to participate, as well as being treated as one of them.

xxxxx (Jun 23)

The morning of the actual wedding dawned bright and sunny. Even the wind had died down, as though holding its breath in anticipation. Both Ceorl and Seftehad had been released from their duties through the end of June, that they might have the chance to settle into their home and begin to build their married life. With Ceorl leaving just a few days later, to be gone a month on the journey to Minas Tirith, they were particularly grateful for this respite.

Ceorl had purchased a small house on a backstreet midway up the hill, and along with friends he had put the last touches on it the night before the marriage was to occur. After they finished, all the men ate supper together and drank toasts well into the evening as the married men teased Ceorl about the changes to come in his life once he had a bride.

Eowyn's gift to the couple was to be the wedding meal itself and the Meduseld kitchens were full of activity. Lothiriel was overseeing getting the tables and benches set up and arranged to her satisfaction, and then she collected the plants from the garden that she would use as the basis of the wedding wreath. This tradition was not one that they knew in Gondor. As it had been explained to her, a plain wreath shape was the foundation, and then guests added various plants that symbolized well wishes to the couple: health, happiness, fertility, protection and so forth.

There was not a great abundance of flowers in the Meduseld garden just yet, but Eomer had told her to take whatever she wanted since she was responsible for the garden blooming at all. Ivy was easy, and simple to work into the desired position. That formed her base, but she also added roses as a symbol of the couple's love for one another. She would have to wait until the meal to see what others brought.

Weddings could take place almost anywhere, but with the King's permission, they chose the steps of Meduseld so that everyone would be able to see the brief ceremony. Even for those who barely knew the two that were marrying, it was a cause to celebrate – renewal, rebirth, rebuilding. All events they particularly wanted to see happen now.

The only weddings Lothiriel had ever witnessed were among the nobility of Gondor, and therefore far more elaborate. Not that the ceremony itself was appreciably longer, but that the nobles liked to take the opportunity to display their wealth and importance in their clothing, the decorations and the other related activities.

It had sometimes felt to Lothiriel more as though they were putting on a show for others than they were celebrating a special event in their own lives. While she understood that many of their marriages were planned alliances, based on the benefit each brought to the union, she had never understood why they did not at least try to make it personal and special as much as they could.

Shortly before the noon hour, everyone was gathered and the principal people involved took their places. Ceorl and Seftehad faced one another, one step down from Eothain standing on Meduseld's terrace.

Eomer, Eowyn, Lothiriel and Erchirion gathered to one side on the terrace.

"Why is Eothain involved?" Erchirion whispered from behind Lothiriel.

She turned her head enough to answer. "Because neither of them has family. Eothain is Ceorl's captain and was asked to preside." She might have explained more but that could wait. She didn't want to detract from the ceremony with whispered conversations.

Ceorl gave Eothain a nod when he judged that all was in readiness. "People of Rohan," Eothain said loudly, "we are gathered for the marriage of Ceorl and Seftehad. They invite you to share in their joy."

To Ceorl, he asked, "Ceorl, do you desire Seftehad as your wedded wife?"

Without hesitation, Ceorl nodded. "Yes." Seftehad's mouth twitched with a smile.

"Seftehad, will you have Ceorl as your wedded husband?"

"Yes." It was said so softly at first that she repeated it louder. "Yes!"

Eothain barely restrained a chuckle. "Is a token given?"

Ceorl held out his palm wherein were two wooden, carved rings. Seftehad picked up the larger of the two, and Ceorl kept the smaller one. Taking Seftehad's hand, he slipped it on her finger and told her, "With this token, I seal my promise."

Next, she did the same. "With this token, I seal my promise."

Eothain ended the ceremony with a simple, "May you have joy in each other all the days of your lives. Wesath ye hal!"

A cheer went up from the gathered crowd, welcoming the new family into the community, and friends came forward to wish them well, while the remainder of the crowd dispersed.

"That is it?" Erchirion asked in surprise.

"Yes. What more is needed?" Lothiriel said.

"Well, yes, it suffices. I suppose I just expected more."

"You think of Gondorian noble weddings, Brother. The common folk neither need nor want all the nonsense the nobility chooses to include for their events. They each have publicly consented and are of age. Even the token is not required, but sometimes is chosen. Seftehad made the dress, and Ceorl wanted to make the rings as his contribution. They are well and truly married, fear not."

He gave her a surprised look at her firm opinion, but Lothiriel had already turned away, to congratulate the couple and guide guests in to the wedding meal. As Lothiriel's brother, he had been invited to the wedding dinner, but had declined since he barely knew the couple or any of the other guests. He thought the invitation was merely a courtesy and did not take advantage. However, there were other practices going on that he had not seen before at weddings. He would make a point to ask his sister about them later.

Those well-wishers who were not to dine with them gradually took their leave, and the small group made their way to the table in their separated area. Aside from the couple, there were less than a dozen people in attendance for this – those closest to Ceorl and Seftehad.

Before the meal was brought in, all gathered around the centerpiece in the middle of the table. Each person took a turn and laid their offering beside it, or tucked it into the wreath itself. Lothiriel's base of ivy and roses spoke of their love, unity and fidelity. Others added wheat for prosperity and fertility, iris for wisdom, and pink heather for good luck. Thistle was laid around the outside of the wreath to symbolize protection of their home. Kernels of corn were scattered over the wreath as a wish for them to have bounty. Then acorns were added to encourage a strong and undying love. Lastly, Eowyn added an apple to the center of the wreath as a symbol of the marriage, and then all sat down to feast.

There was laughter and conversation during the meal, and Lothiriel was well pleased that the couple was happy and satisfied with how their day was going. She must have fretted nearly as much as Seftehad over getting everything ready and right, but certainly the result was far more important to Seftehad. Lothiriel only wished the woman's family had been able to share this with her. The one sister living in the Westfold was due to deliver a child at any time and could not make the journey, and Lothiriel was sure her friend felt the absence of kin. Well, she had done her best to fill that role. Hopefully it had helped.

After the meal concluded, small gifts were given to the couple of furniture, clothes, household items and food. Then the group gathered up the presents and followed the couple to their new home. With the gifts settled inside, a final farewell was said and all left the two to enjoy their privacy.

Eowyn linked arms with Lothiriel as they trekked back up the hill. "You look weary," Eowyn noted.

"Yes, I am. Recent days have been quite busy, but it was a good busy. I am pleased it all went so smoothly."

"Seftehad's dress was lovely. You did a wonderful job on it, and I know she was thrilled to have your help."

Lothiriel merely smiled. "Well, now we must focus on your wedding to Faramir," she teased. "And, unfortunately for you, it will not be simple and easy as this was! A noble marriage in Gondor, _especially_ with the Steward, will require more fuss and bother, yet will only achieve the very same result!"

The two laughed at that, but as they sobered, Eowyn said, "As long as I may count on your assistance, I shall manage to endure. With a dear friend at hand, I can get through it. And Faramir is entirely worth the effort."

"Aye, he is that," Lothiriel agreed.

She looked forward to seeing the two happily wed, though it did concern her that Eomer would then be left alone at Meduseld, without any family around him. Lothiriel doubted he would soon marry with all the other problems claiming his attention, but she hoped those would ease in the near future, so that both worry and loneliness did not overwhelm him.

Though he tried to appear the firm, dispassionate leader he had been during the War, she was very sure there was a sensitive man underneath – one who could be deeply wounded. More than once, when Theoden or Theodred's names had been brought up, she had noticed a tightening of his jaw as he held his emotions and his countenance in firm check. He might be able to hide his feelings, but he could not keep from having them. She sighed inwardly. At least she was glad that Eothain could be counted on to stand by him through whatever he faced. She had never seen a truer friend.

xxxxx

Now that the wedding was done, the focus was on the journey to Minas Tirith. With the departure set for the fourth day of the following month, they had less than a fortnight to prepare. Lothiriel worked to make final improvements to the garden, then decided to step back when she reached a reasonable stopping point. Someone else would have to continue her work from here on. She was pleased with her efforts. The plants looked healthier and were thriving now that they were not choked for space and nourishment. The roses had rallied admirably. She had only obtained two small blooms for the wedding wreath, but more buds were showing each day – Eomer and Eowyn could enjoy their abundance. Perhaps they would wish to make use of the blooms while the funeral guests were at hand.

Reluctantly, Eomer continued with the dancing lessons. Lothiriel couldn't understand his hesitation – he was actually quite good at it. He had a quick mind for patterns and readily learned the movements, and for all his size he was well balanced on his feet and moved smoothly. He didn't say why he objected to it, but she suspected it was more the reasons behind it: Eowyn's wedding that would part them for long periods, the need to be sociable both here and in Gondor, and especially the need to acquaint himself with ladies who might become his wife. Without all the expectations associated with the activity, Lothiriel thought he might enjoy it far more. Unfortunately, believing that and being able to do anything about it were two different matters. She could not put an end to his troubles and worries with any kind word or deed on her part. Only recovery of his land and people would free him to enjoy the company of others in social gatherings.

Not until the first of the month did Lothiriel see Seftehad again, when she returned to work in the Hall. The woman spotted her coming in for the morning meal and ran to give her a hug. Whatever reticence she once had felt had long since been lost during their activities together leading up to the wedding.

"It is good to see you! I was afraid I might not, before you left to go home."

"There was no chance of that," Lothiriel assured her. "I would have sought you out to say my farewell. So, married life suits you, does it?"

"Oh, yes, it is wonderful." A tear slip down her cheek, as she added, "We had a long wait to be together, but when the one you love is a soldier that can happen. Still, I hope that with peace he will be more at Edoras."

"Surely he will," Lothiriel agreed. "This upcoming trip is unusual in its purpose. I think once Theoden King is safely laid to rest with his kin, the new king will not feel the need to travel with as many soldiers about him."

Seftehad bit her lip, but then admitted, "Ceorl tells me there may be need to fight. Not all the evil creatures were swept away, and people in other lands who supported the darkness have not changed their hearts."

Lothiriel sighed and nodded. "Yes, I suppose that is true. Likely the threat is greater for Gondor since those lands are on our borders, but with the renewed alliance and friendship between our kings, I am sure Eomer King will sometimes bring soldiers to help fight with us. It cannot be helped."

She straightened and sternly looked Seftehad in the eye. "But, we will manage. And the danger is far less than it was during Sauron's plague. As always, we will watch and hope for the safe return of our loved ones."

Seftehad smiled and hugged her again. "I must go. I have to help serve. Perhaps we can talk this afternoon."

As Lothiriel watched her heading for the kitchen, she glimpsed Ceorl coming her way and turned to greet him also. "Welcome, husband! You look content!"

He smiled, but she meant the remark. Though Ceorl was easygoing, he now did seem different – more relaxed than ever.

"I wanted to thank you again for all you did for Seftehad. You will never know just how much she appreciated your kindness." He chuckled. "She could not stop commenting on it repeatedly, but I did not mind. I was also grateful that you stood in her sister's stead."

"You both are welcome, but truly I did not mind. I quite enjoyed working with her and being permitted to take part. That my help was needed as well as wanted made it even more pleasant."

She gestured toward the table and they both seated themselves, continuing their conversation with Lothiriel sharing news of Meduseld while he had been away. "You know we leave on the fourth, yes?"

He nodded. "I have already reported in to Eothain and he told me a date had been fixed. I do not like leaving Seftehad this soon, but we will also be taking extra horses and wains to carry our men that were left in the House of Healing. It will be good to get more of our people back to their homes. I do not mind helping to bring that about."

He paused from dishing food onto his plate and looked up at her. "You will be glad to get home, I think."

"Yes." She hesitated, then added, "I am anxious to see my family once more, but…well, I will miss my new friends here. I do not know when I may ever see any of you again, and that saddens me."

"But Eowyn will be married and living in Gondor."

"Eventually, she will, but not for several months yet. And even then, she will be at Minas Tirith while I am at Dol Amroth. They are closer to each other than Minas Tirith and Edoras, but not close. And that is just one person. I like Eowyn, but I will still miss the rest of you."

He smiled mischievously.

"What? What are you about? I see it in your face," she questioned.

Ceorl shrugged. "Just, if I should mention to Eothain how we all miss you, then no doubt he will put the word in Eomer King's ear that it would be nice to invite you for another visit…" He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.

"You are wicked! Conspiring against your king – for shame!"

He shrugged again, turning to his meal. "Not necessarily. In this, I do not think Eomer will mind. It is evident he has also enjoyed having you with us. You are not the only one who will do the missing."

Lothiriel was quiet, thoughtful for several minutes, then asked, "Ceorl, have I been in the way? I know I was not in Eomer's plans when you found me, and he did not count on having to take me in his charge. I would hope I have not been a burden? Please tell me truly."

Ceorl set aside his mug after taking a swallow of ale and firmly met her gaze. "You have not. While your joining us was unexpected, you have ever sought to do what you could not to slow us down or keep us from doing what needed doing." He smiled. "I do not think any of us expected to find a Gondorian noblewoman so agreeable."

She laughed as she relaxed. "I am glad. I know I have only seen and heard a tiny part of all that the Mark has suffered and is now facing, and yet even that small part is alarming. I would do anything I could to bring your people the aid that they need."

He nodded as he returned to eating. "Friends like that are what will see us through this, as it always has. Friends and our own determination not to be bested. Sauron bent us, but could not make us break."

TBC

NOTE: It hadn't occurred to me, but Lialathuveril pointed out that "Westu hal" would be singular, and since Eothain addresses it to more than one person likely it was incorrect. English doesn't possess some of the intricacies that other languages do, and which Old English did, and Lia, Certh and I have agreed that 'Wesath ye hal' is probably the accurate plural form of the address.

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	14. Resilience 14

_**NOTE: Apologies, my children, for the delay. Hectic day! You can thank Rossui for the reminder email to nudge me!**_

 **Chapter 14**

(4 July 3019 III)

How could she not be ready to go home? She had virtually nothing to pack. She had been here more than a month. And yet Lothiriel had the sense that it was too soon, that there were things she yet needed to do in the Mark. Or maybe it was simply that there was more she wanted to do. They needed aid, and while she didn't feel she had done much to alleviate their suffering, now or to come, it seemed that if she left she would never be of use to them in that regard.

But, it could not be helped. She did want to be reunited with her other family members. She did want to meet her new king. Perhaps she should consider ways she might provide assistance from afar. While she did not know all the possibilities for supplies that could be sent to Rohan, she had a firm sense that Gondor's reserves were greater than here. And there were areas of Gondor that had barely felt the taint of war. Surely they had enough and to spare. With her greater experience and acquaintance in her homeland, maybe that would prove to be her greatest service to the Riddermark – acting as intermediary on their behalf.

She spent the night before their departure working on a list of avenues to pursue once she was home. Everyone of consequence that knew her or knew of her would be faced with supplications to provide aid to their northern friends. But that was weeks away.

xx

"I can finish with this. You should go get your bag," Eowyn said, drawing Lothiriel from her reverie. "Eomer will be ready to depart soon, I am sure."

She laughed. "You mean get _your_ bag with _your_ belongings inside it! I have naught to call my own."

Eowyn smiled. "They are yours now. Betersel bestowed them on you and I shall not reclaim them. Once I am Faramir's wife, you may return the favor, if it suits. Otherwise, I shall think no more of it and neither should you."

"Thank you, my dear friend…my dear cousin!"

With a last laugh and bright smile, Lothiriel made for her room. Just before she reached it, however, Erchirion came out carrying her bag in his hand. "Is this all?" he asked. "The maid said it was."

"Yes. Let me get my cloak and I will join you outside."

He nodded and started off down the hall, and Lothiriel went into the room she had claimed for the past month. She turned a slow circle, gazing around it, now showing no evidence of an occupant save for her cloak laid on the bed. Her room at Dol Amroth was large and airy, with cool stone walls and a balcony overlooking the sea. And, yet, this room was as dear to her heart as the one she had lived in since she was a small girl. They were completely different, in size, decoration and feel. She suspected her fondness for them sprang more from her fellowship with the other occupants of Meduseld and Dol Amroth than from the rooms themselves. She had heard an Elvish saying once – "home is where lies the heart" – and she now understood it more fully. Certainly, she now believed it. With a small sigh, she glanced around once more, took up her cloak and strode firmly out the door.

From the terrace, Lothiriel gazed on the milling group below her. The bulk of their company were farther down the hill or outside the gates already. A smaller group of Eomer's guards, Lothiriel and her brother were at the very top. Many of the household staff had come out for the farewell, either as friends or loved ones of the departing riders. Lothiriel glimpsed Seftehad off to the side with the kitchen staff, and the woman gave her a brief wave and a smile. She and Ceorl would have said their goodbyes before this, out of the public eye.

Just then, Eomer came up beside her. "You are ready?" he asked, pulling on his gloves and she silently nodded.

Offering his arm to her, they descended to the horses. He guided her to where Erchirion was holding her horse and his own, and left her to her brother's care. A quick check with Eothain indicated all was prepared, and the company was soon mounted and on their way.

The trek down the hill was mostly silent, and Lothiriel was lost in her own musings as she looked around at the town she had come to know so well. A few people of her acquaintance waved from the roadside and she returned the gesture with a smile. Yes, this was a bittersweet parting. Home ahead and friends behind, both to be desired.

She stayed near her brother, and he chose to ride alongside Eomer, meaning the three of them led the rest of the group. Eothain joined them soon after, and he and Erchirion fell into conversation. Once they cleared the barrowfields, they met up with the remainder of the group who would join them – soldiers, wains and prisoners.

At the sight of the prisoners, Lothiriel's eyes narrowed, and then she turned to Eomer. "They are not riding their own horses?"

He shook his head. "We will take the animals back with us. If we can determine that they were not stolen, then they will be sold and the proceeds given to you as a weregild for your suffering at their hands."

She chewed her lip, then asked, "Is not the weregild usually compensation for death?"

"Usually, yes, but not always. It sometimes is paid for stolen property. You were stolen from your family, and even though you have been recovered, by our laws you are due compensation. I have no doubt that Aragorn will agree with me on this."

She said no more about it, not trusting herself to speak calmly. This was unexpected, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Part of her had thought to put the bandits entirely from her mind and give them no more heed, but the idea of receiving a weregild of compensation would be harder to forget.

As the larger group got moving, Erchirion and Lothiriel fell back several paces from the front, staying out of Eomer's way as the leader. Perhaps sensing that his sister was unsettled, Erchirion kept up a fairly constant but benign conversation to distract her from it.

They rode for a couple of hours before taking the first break, to rest the horses and stretch their own legs, then were quickly underway once more. Erchirion formed up among soldiers of his acquaintance, leaving her to her own devices for the time being. As he did not look otherwise occupied guiding the party, Lothiriel nudged her horse up to ride next to Eomer. After a brief smile at her, they rode in silence.

Her mind chewed over what to say or do, thoughts only half formed, but eventually she worked out what she wished to tell him.

"Eomer…" He raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. "I…I would like you to take the weregild money and distribute it among the men of your company involved in my rescue. I do not have need of it, and I should like to do this as a token of my appreciation for their willingness to risk their lives on my behalf. Please?"

He drew a deep breath, but then shrugged. "That is not common, but you are allowed to do with your weregild as you see fit. If that is your wish, I will abide by it. You do know, though, that they do not expect payment for what their integrity dictated they do? I may have commanded them, but they would have protected you even if I had not."

"Yes, I do know that. But I would wish to give them tangible evidence of my gratitude. It need not be made widely known – this is not to make myself appear generous. It is just…a token between friends, if you will."

"Very well. I will see it done."

They reverted to silence then, comfortable riding together without conversation. Lothiriel had half expected they would stop at Aldburg for the night, but Eomer wished to cover more ground than that would allow. They were a good hour farther to the east before they stopped. Regretfully, Lothiriel gazed at the town walls as they rode past. She would have liked to see Betersel again, but it could not be helped.

At day's end, when Eomer finally called for them to make camp, Lothiriel realized how long it had been since she had ridden for an extended period. The trip to Dunharrow was the most taxing trip she had made since arriving at Edoras, and her weariness reminded her of that detail. She had little doubt she would sleep well.

As always, the Rohirrim were efficient and camp was quickly made, the horses tended and the evening meal prepared. Lothiriel only lingered a short while at the fire after eating, taking herself off to bed early on. Many of the others were not far behind her, but Eomer and Eothain remained by the fire long after most were gone.

"You are very quiet tonight," Eomer observed, curiously eyeing his friend.

"Hmmm, yes." After a moment, Eothain gave a sigh. "I have just been thinking. I suspect it was a very good thing that Lothiriel chose to come to Edoras with us after we recovered her."

"Why is that?" Eomer was not sure what he meant by the observation.

"Just, had we sent her home, we would probably have sent no more than a dozen guards at most. Not knowing one of them had escaped, we would have considered that sufficient for her protection and all that we could spare."

Eomer's eyes went wide. "And he might have succeeded in slipping into their camp and recovering her."

Eothain nodded. "At least at Edoras, he was seen and help could come. Had he succeeded in taking her again, it might have been hours before she was missed and a search begun." Left unsaid was what might easily have happened to her during those hours.

Bile rose in Eomer's throat at the realization of how close she had come to such a fate. He would never have forgiven himself, nor expected Imrahil to either. He looked away and his jaw tightened. "Yes, well, that did not happen. She is safe now and we will make sure she stays that way."

Eothain's mouth tightened, but he merely replied, "Aye, we will."

Silence returned as Eothain poured them both more ale. When he turned back from stoppering the ale and putting it aside, he found Eomer gazing up at the skies.

Unexpectedly, Eomer murmured, "How long has it been since you truly looked at the stars? Not to find your way, but just to enjoy their beauty?"

Eothain raised a surprised eyebrow at the odd question. Then understanding came to him – not odd after all. "It has been a while, I confess. What about you? And what has made you think of that?"

"Hmmm? Oh, just something Lothiriel once said. Nevermind." He took a long swallow of ale, nearly draining the mug.

"When was the last time you looked at the stars for their beauty?" Eothain persisted.

Eomer rubbed a hand over his face. "I cannot remember, so clearly it has been a very long while." He looked curiously at his friend. "Do you not miss such simple activities? No responsibilities, no expectations – just enjoying the world around you?"

Eothain nodded, looking down into his mug. "Yes. But we will get there, Eomer. Perhaps not as quickly as we would like, but with Sauron and Saruman defeated and gone, we will get there. We will take back our lives to live as we see fit, not as evil dangers dictate they be spent."

Eomer didn't respond, but finally drained his mug and rose. "I will see you in the morning."

Eothain watched his retreat to his tent, and at length he followed suit.

xxxxx

At least with the information gathering and need determination behind him, Eomer was under less pressure for this trip. However, that did not ease the pangs he felt knowing the several-fold purpose of their journey. He had dead to bury and injured men to bring home. This was no pleasure jaunt, to be sure.

In that regard, it was a relief having Lothiriel along. He would miss her company once she was returned home, but he needed someone to talk to as they rode, about matters other than the troubles he was facing for the Mark.

"You never did tell me what you do in Gondor. You told me about your brothers, but then the conversation turned and we never came back to it."

"Oh, yes, that." Her cheeks pinked and she looked away. Then, with a sigh, she told him, "I am embarrassed to say that I did little of consequence there, other than overseeing my father's household. At least, I did that until Alcathir took over after she married Elphir. I…I mentioned before that my family is quite protective of me. While my father deemed it necessary that my brothers be useful, he considered my running his house sufficient, and never encouraged me to find anything new after that was taken from me."

They rode in silence for a short way, before Eomer observed, "That does not fit with what I have seen of you while we have been acquainted."

"No…" She drew a deep breath. "When I was taken from Lossarnach, I suddenly found myself having to see to all my own needs as best I could. By the time I met you and we reached Aldburg where there were again servants to be had, it was unthinkable to ask someone else to perform simple tasks that I could easily do on my own. I saw the women of Rohan doing for themselves, and for others as well, and that struck me as a better way to live my life. I had few useful skills to offer at the beginning, but I think I have learned since then."

"What will you do when you are home again? I would not think you would wish to return to the way it was before."

"I do not know yet. I have been contemplating that, but I suppose I will see what opportunities there are."

"The Houses of Healing, perhaps? They usually have need of assistance."

Lothiriel laughed. "I do not think that would work. I confess I am squeamish about blood and grievous wounds. You do not realize what it took for me to offer my help with those injured in the fire. I must find activities to which I am better suited."

He chuckled. "Well, we were thankful that you made the effort to help during the fire, especially since you found it difficult." He paused and then asked curiously, "What else would you be allowed to do, as a noblewoman? I know that would be restrictive."

She nodded. "Very much so. Most of the acceptable pursuits are not particularly useful ones – dancing, needlework, music, gardening. Unless we have a home to run and children to care for, our pursuits are not aimed at being useful in society. What I have mentioned contribute to making a pleasant home, but hardly support the greater good."

"That had not occurred to me. I am mostly only acquainted with the role Eowyn had, and I never thought beyond the activities she pursued. Her day as mistress of Meduseld was full enough that I could not see that she needed more to do."

"No, but in Gondor, at least among the nobility, it is expected that the servants do far more of the actual work than the ladies of the household. We might direct their activities, but we are not called upon to cook or clean or sew clothing. There are a limited number of decorative pillows and tapestries one can make use of in a house, even a palace. Gardens do not need constant tending, and even that task may be given to servants if we choose. Gatherings where there is dancing, or music played, are not daily events. In truth, we read a great deal, for lack of better choices, and visit one another. Or go for long walks."

They rode in silence for several minutes before Eomer asked, "You have told me what you do and what you are allowed to do. What would you wish to do, if it were possible?"

She considered the question. "I am not sure, but I think I would like to help those in need, however I am able. Why should I not sew clothes for the poor rather than waste my effort on unneeded decorations?" She sighed. "I do not know. I am not certain what is even possible, but I will be on the watch for prospects, and then try to persuade Father to allow it."

xxxxx

At least the weather favored them for the journey. Eomer did not need foul weather to aggravate his mood. Each step they took made it more and more final – Theoden was gone. Theodred was gone. Eowyn would be leaving soon. Each clop of a hoof sounded the constant rhythm – gone, gone, gone. He had spent his entire life fighting to hold the Mark together, and yet here it was fragmenting in spite of all he could do. True, this splintering was in his own household, not the whole of the Mark. With aid from Gondor, it would not be all that hopeless for his people, but the selfish part of him wanted things not to be as bleak for him personally either. Despite their victory over Sauron, he felt more a prisoner than he had ever been.

In other circumstances, the lovely woman riding nearby would have been a bright spot in all his gloomy reveries. That had been the case when they first departed Edoras, but as the days had passed and his worries weighed upon him, she had become yet another concern. Keeping her safe until she was returned to her family. Refusing to acknowledge he would miss her. Wondering how he could simply ride away when the time came. But he had no choice. Theoden must be taken home, and he did not begrudge fulfilling that one last task for his king. Theoden would not have wavered in his duty to the Riddermark, and Eomer would not disgrace him by doing so in his stead.

The others in the party were not unaware of Eomer's withdrawn attitude, and most left him to himself when possible. He did not need to be faced with petty matters just now. They understood how difficult this funeral procession was for him. Or they believed they did. Most had no grasp of how far beyond the immediate situation his mind fretted.

Erchirion tried cheerful good humor to draw Eomer out, to no avail. His sister resorted more to silent companionship, not knowing it both helped and made things worse for him.

Despite his mood, Eomer was not one to shirk his responsibilities. He kept aware of all that happened in their party and the progress they were making in their travel. As they set out after the noon meal on their seventh day of travel, he signaled Eothain to join him, riding farther ahead of the company than usual.

Eomer spoke quietly to make sure they would not be overheard. "Stay close to Lothiriel until we are through the Firien Wood. I do not know that she will recognize it as we approach, but she may well do so when we enter it. I would not have her healing wounds reopened and cause her further distress. Your presence may prevent that."

"But she has her brother with her…" From the corner of his eye, Eothain saw Eomer look at him. It took only a moment before his expression changed, and Eothain struggled to remain impassive. Yes, there was the look. He could not always goad it out of his friend, and was careful as to when he tried, but that exasperated, irritated 'just do as I say and do not give me your jesting arguments'-look was worth it.

Finally, Eothain grinned at his friend. "Certainly, if that is what you wish. I am happy to keep her company. She will know she is safe."

"Good." He could tell by Eomer's tone that he knew he was being baited, but would not give his friend the satisfaction of pursuing the conversation further or asking questions. Hopefully, though, it would distract his friend from plaguing thoughts.

At least Eomer's focus on Lothiriel's frame of mind was pulling him from his morose reveries. Eothain was worried about him, the moreso for knowing he would not be willing to talk about what troubled him. Others might air such things and feel better for it, but Eomer was not that sort of man. On the other hand… He grinned. Two birds, one stone. Perfect.

Eothain fell back and drew his horse in beside Lothiriel. "Your brother has wandered off again?"

She laughed. "He seems to prefer the company of his fellow soldiers to mine. But it is enough that he is near, and I glimpse him readily enough to be reassured that he is well."

"I fear you must be very bored on this long trip, with few to have conversation with you."

"Occasionally, but I enjoy listening to the men singing, and enough of them speak to me now and then to break the monotony."

He lowered his voice. "I come to ask for your help."

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Indeed? You require me to command the eored for you while you rest?"

He laughed loudly. "That I would enjoy watching!" He sobered. "No, it is Eomer. His mind preys upon him. I cannot stay near him constantly, but if you would ride nearby and draw him into conversation at every opportunity, it might help. He may not appreciate it as you do it, but it would save him from himself. He is anxious and careworn, with no relief."

Lothiriel's eyes flicked to Eomer riding ahead of them. She had noticed Eomer's mood was increasingly withdrawn. "I do not know that I can be of any help, but certainly at court we learn the fine art of continual talk while saying little. That should stand me in good stead."

He jerked his chin forward and she urged her horse up to join Eomer, Eothain falling in on the other side of her. Despite his preoccupation, Eomer smiled when she appeared.

"Eomer, the ride has grown quite dull. May we share conversation? Once I am home, I will miss the chance to talk with you."

"Certainly. I will miss it also. Did you have something in particular you wished to discuss?"

She shrugged. "No, but you could tell me more of the Mark. What is this area where we are now? Are we still in the Eastfold?"

"I am impressed that you remember the names, but no, we have crossed into Fenmarch now. See how the land is marshier? It will not be much longer before we reach the Firien Wood. The Mering Stream flows down from the mountains, through the woods and on northward until it joins with the Mouths of the Entwash." He gestured off to his left. "We should reach the bridge over the Mering in just over an hour. It is at that point that we enter Gondor."

For an instant, she hesitated, her eyes clouding, but taking a slow breath, she asked, "And then we are halfway there?"

"Not quite. It will take another two leagues or so before we manage that."

"Will we camp in the woods tonight?" She managed to prevent a quaver that wanted to slip into her voice.

"No, some distance beyond it. The ground will be firmer and better suited to making camp, not to mention we may easily travel another couple of hours after our rest stop."

She chewed her lip and then risked the question she was unsure about asking. "Did I misunderstand that the Firien Wood is part of Gondor? Why, then, were you and your company there in May?"

His gaze darted past her to Eothain before he answered carefully, "Officially, most of the wood is in Gondor and only a very small part is in Rohan, but over many long years it has come to be considered part of Rohan. We were here in May to visit the wardens on Halifirien." He drew his horse to a stop and pointed upward. "See there, the tall peak rising behind the forest – that is the last Beacon-hill as you travel from Gondor. The Eorlingas maintain it, and the wardens have lodgings there. We were checking on them as the eastern-most inhabitants of our land."

The company had caught up to them while they made their brief stop, so they began moving again.

"If the Beacon-hill belongs to Gondor, then why would you tend it? Is it because the wood is now deemed part of your land?"

"Yes, for the most part. It used to be that Elendil was entombed there, and both lands shared responsibility for its upkeep. After Cirion moved Elendil's remains to Minas Tirith, gradually Halifirien and the entirety of the woods became part of our lands." He paused, eyeing the mountain thoughtfully. "It was there that Cirion gifted us this land."

"And in return, the Eorlingas took the Oath of Eorl. I remember hearing of it in my history lessons as a girl, but did not realize this was the place."

"You cannot see it yet, but we will pass the path that goes to Halifirien. It is just off the Great West Road and is lined by standing stones, leading to the stone staircase up to the Beacon."

"And what is to the north of us?"

"The Entwash splits into several tributaries before joining with the Anduin. North of the river our eastern border is the Anduin, in the area called the Emyn Muil."

He paused, lost in his own reveries. Lothiriel glanced at Eothain who explained, "It was in that area where Eomer's father was killed by orcs."

The remark drew Eomer from his musings. "Yes." He didn't elaborate further. After a moment, he continued, "From the Emyn Muil on the east and the Entwash where it turns north toward Entwood on the west is the land called Eastemnet. The Wold is the northern-most part of that area – along the River Limlight as our northern border."

"And the Eastemnet is where most of the horse herds stay?"

"Correct. There are some in the Westemnet, but Eastemnet is better suited. But we are able to harvest the grasses in Westemnet for hay, to use for stabled horses and through the winter."

Lothiriel digested this, then asked, "And your ancestors came from farther north still – north of the Limlight?"

"Yes, near the mouth of the Anduin." He smiled. "You are eager to know our history!"

"If I am to know it, I must ask questions of Eorlingas. The books I have seen in Gondor say precious little on the subject. At most, they speak of wars, or of Gondor's dealings with the Mark. That does not tell me much of the land or its…people."

Lothiriel's voice faltered as she noticed they had reached the bridge at the edge of the Firien Wood, where it spread on both sides of the road.

Quickly Eomer continued, "Until now, our land was divided into the West-mark and the East-mark, for military purposes. The First Marshal commanded for Edoras and the surrounding areas. The Second Marshal could command either the East-mark or the West-mark, depending on where the need was greatest. Most recently that was my cousin, Theodred. The Third Marshal covered the remaining region."

"And that was you, commanding from your home at Aldburg," Lothiriel interjected, forcing herself to focus on the conversation rather than her surroundings.

"Yes. However, I have decided to make a change, eliminating these ranks. There will only be two Marshals of equal rank – Elfhelm for the East-mark and Erkenbrand for the West-mark."

"Which of them will be responsible for Edoras, then?"

"Neither. I have made Eothain the Captain of my guard and he will oversee the defense of Meduseld and all of Edoras. Elfhelm will have enough to do with the rest of the East-mark."

"Making Edoras roughly the dividing line between the two regions?"

He nodded. "Dunharrow does not often require attention, so Eothain can send someone to check on it and Harrowdale occasionally. This arrangement will make the king readily accessible to both the Marshals."

"Are there roads across the Emnets? I know of this road we are on, and I understand there is one much farther west that turns north toward Eriador."

"On the western side of the Gap of Rohan is the North-South Road, as you say. Many now call it the Greenway since it has not been kept up for many years and is overgrown with grass, though I believe one may still travel it. But other than that, there are no true roads like this one elsewhere. At most there are well-worn paths that are used frequently."

"Does not that make it difficult traveling across those lands? How will you get supplies to those in need, especially if there is snow?"

"Remember that we have drawn many to the northern side of the Entwash, near the crossing at the Entwade. We will not need to travel very far. And if the conditions do not permit the use of wains, we can pack the supplies on horses to deliver them."

They were due to make a rest stop, but under the circumstances, Eomer decided it might be best to press on longer and clear the woods first. It was evident from Lothiriel's nervous glances around that she was remembering her time spent here previously. The sooner they exited the forest the better it would be for her emotional state. He and Eothain provided enough information in answer to her questions to keep her distracted, but the three of them breathed a collective sigh of relief when they rode out of the trees. The distance was not far to the standing stones that formed a path leading up toward Halifirien, and Eomer called a halt beyond that for them to take a break.

They watered the horses and allowed them to graze, while most of the company strolled the vicinity to stretch their legs. Several riders took the opportunity to sprawl in the grass and enjoy the sun on their face while they napped. Eomer and Eothain had continued to stay close to Lothiriel, and when she spotted the many sleepers, she smiled. "I did not think the Rohirrim tired that easily!"

Eomer chuckled. "Not tire, but they do know to catch rest whenever possible – in the event it is unavailable for a long period unexpectedly. This was a common sight among my eored whenever we stopped for any appreciable length of time. Those not on duty made good use of the reprieve."

"Considering how often we did not sleep at all for a day or more, it was a wise habit to follow," Eothain added.

"So it would seem," Lothiriel agreed. "I suppose it must be a learned habit, though. I do not think I could simply lie down and go to sleep at will."

"All the better that you have no need to learn such a trick," Eomer observed. "It is useful to soldiers, but born of necessity. Far better that you are able to choose when and where you will sleep, and not have to worry that it may not be possible. At least usually."

"Yes, I think you must be right about that." Lothiriel glanced back at the forest, then determinedly turned her attention to the southeast. "Do we make good speed?" she asked, changing the subject entirely.

Again, Eomer and Eothain eyed one another when she was looking away from them. Eomer didn't know about Eothain, but he found it hard to read Lothiriel's emotions. For all that she had said she ofttimes revealed her feelings in her expression, at present she was doing better at concealing it. Whether consciously or not, she had not even chewed her lip as she was wont to do when thinking. He could only hope that their conversation was helping to ease her mind.

Back in the saddle, they rode for another two hours before circling the wagons to make camp for the night. The steady distance they had put between them and the forest had eased Lothiriel's tension, and their banter became more relaxed for the remainder of the afternoon.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	15. Resilience 15

_**NOTE: If you are interested, I made a slight change to Chapter 13: It hadn't occurred to me, but Lialathuveril pointed out that "Westu hal" would be singular, and since Eothain addresses it to more than one person likely it was incorrect. English doesn't possess some of the intricacies that other languages do, and which Old English did, and Lia, Certh and I have agreed that 'Wesath ye hal' is probably the accurate plural form of the address.**_

 **Chapter 15** (11 July 3019 III)

In order to arrive at Mundburg far enough prior to suppertime, Eomer quickened their pace slightly each of the remaining days, and stopped later in the evening. He knew Aragorn would want to have a gathering of sorts to welcome them, if only just among their friends, and he did not wish the company to be too tired to enjoy it. And Lothiriel would be reunited with her family at long last. It would not do to have her nodding off in her soup! Imrahil would think he had not been solicitous of her well-being.

Setting a slow pace was more tiring than if they could have ridden freely, but they would need the wains both to carry Theoden home and also those men not recovered enough to ride. They had brought extra horses, but they could not be certain how many would be up to riding for long periods, even if they were healed sufficiently to sit a saddle.

It was a relief when finally the Rammas Echor came into view on their final day of travel. They took their rest stop sooner than usual and exchanged both greetings and news with the guards stationed by the gap. At their final stop, it was early for the midday meal, but they were not near enough to the City to skip it altogether. However, Eomer abbreviated the time allotted to speed their journey and bring it to an end.

As he ate, sitting with Eothain, Erchirion and Lothiriel, the latter marvelled, "I have never seen the Pelennor this bare. I suppose I did not fully realize the extent of the damage that had been done to the land. I foolishly assumed it mostly confined to the lower levels of the City."

The three men glanced among themselves, before Erchirion told her, "The enemy's army was very large, Thiri. They destroyed any homes and buildings they came upon, and that many feet trampling the earth leaves a significant mark."

None of them wanted to go into detail describing the horde they had faced, and Lothiriel realized it was best to leave the discussion at that cursory explanation. The entire company kept largely silent as they crossed the Pelennor, and Lothiriel suspected they dwelled on the recent battle. The men had even stopped singing, something they had done for most of their travel. She would have liked to be able to lighten the mood, but she could not think of words appropriate to the occasion, and kept a respectful silence herself.

The closer they came to Minas Tirith, the better it could be seen shining on the hillside. The sun glinting off the white stone looked as though it were determined to make up the years of shadow. "This is the first I have seen the City from this vantage," she said quietly. When Eomer turned to look questioningly at her, she explained, "I usually arrive at the Harlond and come in on the South Road. Somehow it looks different coming this way."

When they were within a mile of the gate, a mounted party rode out to meet them. Lothiriel was surprised to find Faramir leading the group. Dispensing with all decorum, she waved frantically as soon as she recognized him. "Faramir!"

A grin split his face and he gave a more modest wave in return, causing her to pink with embarrassment. Of course. He was Steward now. He had duties to attend before he could visit with family.

Eomer had brought his company to a halt and let the Gondorians cover the remaining distance. The soldiers stopped, facing the visitors, but Faramir rode forward. "My lord, Eomer King, the King of Gondor bids me bring greeting and welcome to you. I hope your travel was uneventful. We will show you where the company may camp, and then King Elessar asks that you join him for refreshment and conversation."

Eomer nodded once, and replied, "Hail, Faramir, Lord and Steward of Minas Tirith, Prince of Ithilien, Brother." Faramir's mouth twitched, but he held his countenance. "It is good to be back among our southern friends once more. Lead on whither you will us."

A half mile farther along, the captain of Faramir's escort moved off to the left, waving Eomer's company to follow. Eothain looked at Faramir and asked, "I must see to the encampment first, but where might I find Eomer King afterwards?"

"Come to the Citadel. I will leave word at the gates to admit you and direct you to him. Elessar has arranged for Eomer, and whoever of his company he chooses, to be housed in the King's house in the seventh circle." Eothain nodded his understanding and turned away as the smaller group continued on into the City.

Despite what repairs had been made, the construction of the new gate, and missing or damaged buildings on the first circle, brought home to Lothiriel how near the enemy had been to winning the City. She glanced at Eomer. Had it not been for the Rohirrim, she could readily believe this great City would have fallen. If they could breach the gate as they had… She forced her mind to cease these meditations. They had been defeated. That was the most important detail.

Minas Tirith overall was cheerier than Lothiriel had seen it in a long while. The growing shadow in the East had dampened spirits as surely as a rainstorm, and the constant battles being fought by Gondor's army had been discouraging. Perhaps Boromir and his men had held the enemy at bay, but they had not been able to fully overcome or drive them out. Now that threat was ended, the bright sun lit the countenances of the people almost as brightly as it did the stone walls. It was good to see it.

The ride up through the levels seemed to take longer than Lothiriel remembered, but perhaps that had more to do with her impatience to see her family than with any true slowing of their progress. As soon as they reached the yard to her father's townhouse, however, she was out of the saddle instantly and dashing for the door. Erchirion chuckled, bid Eomer farewell and made arrangements for their horses to be stabled. Faramir had advised that King Elessar had planned a supper to include Imrahil's family, in addition to Eomer and guests, the Fellowship and a few select others. He trusted his sister would make up for her affront to proper manners when she again saw Eomer at the meal. For his part, Eomer gave no indication he had noticed, only pleased for Lothiriel finally being home.

Lothiriel had intended to rest between her arrival and the supper that evening, but she could not bear to part from her family once they were together. At least it was restful being back in her own home, though part of her missed the Golden Hall and wondered what her friends were doing now. Despite her reluctance to leave their company, an hour before supper Imrahil sent her off to wash and change clothes.

It was very odd to be looking on the clothes in her wardrobe. She had grown accustomed to the styles of Rohan and even though familiar, her garb felt foreign. Well, she must adjust. She was home now and back to her old life. She frowned. Somehow, that was a disconcerting notion.

All of her dresses clearly belonged to a lady of the court, the daughter of a Prince. Even her less formal, daily attire was finer than what was usual for Edoras. Though strange, she did not think her father would approve of her coming to a meal with the King looking anything other than her best.

Her maidservant, Caladael, entered just then. The older woman had attended her for many long years. She had not realized she had come to Minas Tirith in Lothiriel's absence. "Have you decided what you will wear, lady?"

With a sigh, Lothiriel waved toward the wardrobe. "You decide, Caladael. You are very good at making those choices."

The woman pursed her lips with mild disapproval, but moved to the task as Lothiriel went to wash her face and hands. Lothiriel removed her travel clothes and put on the clean undergarments, and then the undergown laid out. Caladael had hung the gown itself on the back of the door and was now picking up her discarded clothes, eyeing them with distaste.

Lothiriel ignored her and went to fetch the gown. She was not interested in anyone's opinion of clothing that had generously been provided to her. Seeing her purpose, Caladael hastily dropped the offending garments into a basket and hurried to take the dress from her, to assist her in donning it. Lothiriel would have to get used to that again also. She had grown accustomed to taking care of her own needs. Somehow it was silly to require help in dressing herself. Fastening closures in the back or styling hair, perhaps, but to simply put on a dress?

At length, she was finally dressed and primped to Caladael's satisfaction. Lothiriel was just glad to be able to dismiss her and remove the tension that had sprung up between their warring sensibilities. Still, she could admit as she looked in the mirror that the woman did her job very well. Lothiriel was as flawlessly put together as she had ever been under Caladael's hand. She could not fault the woman's capability to fulfill her tasks.

Brushing aside the minor irritations, she reminded herself that she would be with her family for the meal, back with friends from Rohan and finally able to meet her new King. Those were certainly pleasures to anticipate. With a smile, she brushed a tendril of hair away from her face and left the room.

Her brothers were already waiting in the downstairs hall, and their father joined them soon after. The walk in the twilight with quiet conversation was most pleasant. For her entire life, Mordor had threatened on the doorstep. When she was very young, she had not particularly noticed during the family's visits to the City, but as she grew older, she became aware of the tension and fear that were the constant companion of all the inhabitants. Even her own family was not safe from it. Surely her father had realized what might one day be the result, and she had noticed more gray hairs and more worry lines on his face over the years.

Now all was changed. People they passed called out friendly greetings, the guards at each gate were not as grim and suspicious, indeed, the entire City appeared to finally have started to breathe again after long holding its breath. But there were to be more surprises for her. As they came through the gate and she glimpsed the Court of the Fountain, she skidded to a halt with a gasp. "The tree!" she said in wonder.

Her father smiled. "I am sorry. I forgot that you did not know and quite neglected to mention it." He nudged her forward as he explained, "King Elessar went up on Mount Mindolluin with Gandalf and there discovered a sapling of the White Tree. He brought it back to replace the dead one, and that was laid with honor in the Silent Street." He glanced behind them, then added, "And now Gondor will flower once more as well under a returned King. I did not dare hope to see the tree restored in my lifetime."

She squeezed his arm reassuringly, and he smiled down at her, tucking her hand more firmly about his arm as they continued on. To their surprise, a goodly number of people of the court in their finery were making their way toward the Hall of Feasts. "This was to be a small gathering…" Imrahil murmured.

As if in answer to his unspoken question, a servant appeared just then. "My lord, Prince Imrahil, the King asks me to direct you to the Hall of Feasts for the supper. He said that he would explain when he sees you."

Accordingly, they altered their course and entered the large hall. The servant had come with them and cleared a path to lead them on in to greet the King. Elessar noticed their approach and turned from his conversation to smile in welcome. "Prince Imrahil. I am pleased you and your family could join us." As they came nearer, he lowered his voice and confessed, "I had intended a more intimate gathering, but the nobles were howling to be included and I gave in. My apologies."

"Think nothing of it, my lord. The food will taste just as well, and most of the company will be just as pleasing."

Elessar chuckled at the thinly veiled jest. "Well, you are correct about the food anyway." He turned to Lothiriel. "And at long last I am to meet your lovely daughter."

Lothiriel was suddenly glad of Caladael's persistence in the details of her attire. She quickly curtsied to the King. "It is a very great pleasure, my lord. I have heard much of you from fond lips."

Elessar laughed again. "Indeed? That is a relief to hear, though I did not truly expect any less." His wife stepped up beside him just then. "You have met my wife, Arwen?"

Lothiriel curtsied again and smiled. "I have, and Seftehad fervently desired me to pass along her thanks and gratitude for your generous gift!"

Arwen smiled in return. "I am pleased she liked it. You were able to work it into an undergown that was agreeable to her, and finish?"

"Oh, yes! And Seftehad was thrilled beyond words at your kindness. It fashioned beautifully – she said it made her feel like a queen when she tried it on for a fitting. And she was a lovely bride. They wed just eleven days before we departed. I am sure it was hard for them to separate soon after, but it could not be helped."

Arwen laughed with delight. "Wonderful! I knew you could come up with something magnificent if given the material to work with – your needlework was very fine."

Lothiriel's mouth twisted with wry humor. "Indeed. My tapestries are the talk of Dol Amroth!"

That brought an even greater peal of laughter from the queen. "I must think of needlework that you will find more of a challenge, since your expertise has peaked in that respect."

The men were eyeing the two of them curiously, but Lothiriel ignored them, figuring she could explain later. "I look forward to it."

Others were coming to join them, then, a rather motley group. An elf, a dwarf and four Halflings. "Aragorn! Don't hog all the lovely ladies to yourself! Introduce the rest of us!" Gimli bellowed. The elf beside him winced slightly, but a quirk of his lips and gleam in his eye suggested he was not unused to loud behavior from his friend.

"Of course, Master Dwarf, I should be delighted, but perhaps Prince Imrahil is better suited to make introductions as he has greater acquaintance with all in our party."

It was clear to Lothiriel that the king also had a fondness for the dwarf, for there was no sign of offense taken for his rough manners. Part of her said all the proper words and made all the proper gestures, but her mind was numb. She had _known_ she would meet those who had seen to the destruction of the One Ring, but somehow it was merely a story in a book before this gathering.

Eomer's arrival just then set off another round of welcomes among the friends, and Lothiriel quietly hovered on the perimeter of their circle, keeping out of the way. After the greetings, Faramir signaled a servant who then announced loudly that all should take their seats.

Lothiriel found herself seated opposite Gimli and Legolas. She could not quite work out how the unlikely pair could be close friends, but then there were many unusual events taking place of late. Sauron's reign of terror culminating in the final battles had caused upheavals all throughout Middle-earth, and alliances were formed or renewed that had long been forgotten.

"You've just come from Edoras, lass?"

She blinked, startled by the question, but then nodded at the dwarf. "I did."

"Did you have the chance to visit Helm's Deep while you were there?" Gimli swallowed a gulp of ale while waiting for her to answer.

"No. I had hoped to, but it was too far and everyone too busy to take me on an excursion there. Perhaps one day I will return and get to see it then. Why do you ask?"

"The caves, lass, the caves!" Gimli chortled fervently. "Such beauty is not to be missed!"

Understanding dawned. "Ah, so I have heard."

Gimli did not look satisfied with that response. "The Glittering Caves behind the battlements," Legolas explained quietly, an amused smile playing over his mouth. "In Sindarin it is called Aglarond. Gimli discovered them during the battle and has since been enthralled."

"As well I should be, lad! And Eomer has given permission for me to visit them again – for us to visit them. Don't forget your promise, elf!"

"Elves have excellent memories," Legolas assured him.

"What is in these caves that makes them special?" Lothiriel asked curiously.

Legolas rolled his eyes. She got the distinct impression he had hoped she would not ask that. She understood why when Gimli launched into an enthusiastic discourse on all the wonders he had seen there. Admittedly, it sounded glorious, and she was sorry she had not had the chance to see it. Yes, one day, she needed to return to the Mark.

"If Eomer will allow it, I think I may bring a group of my kinsmen there and create a settlement," Gimli was saying, drawing her back to the conversation. "A dwarf could easily live out his days in so fine a place, exploring, expanding, but mostly enjoying. I have never seen its like in the Northern World."

Legolas smiled tolerantly, though Lothiriel suspected that on that point certainly he and Gimli differed.

Changing the subject, she remarked to the dwarf, "I saw your kinsmen, working on the gate, as we rode in today."

"Aye. There are no better builders than dwarves," Gimli assured her. "Be it stone or steel, or mines to uncover gems, we dwarves build, and build with beauty. Not all see the beauty of stone or steelwork" – he slanted a glance at the elf – "but it is there for eyes that would see."

"I have never doubted the beauty of dwarf-work, my friend. I only hold that I prefer trees and other living things to rock and metal." Unperturbed, Legolas continued eating.

Gimli chuckled but made no further remark on the subject. Lothiriel, however, had a sudden inspiration. Perhaps the dwarves could be useful in Rohan? "I have heard there was considerable damage to the Hornburg during the battle. Perhaps Eomer King would wish to have your kinsmen aid in rebuilding there."

"Aye. We spoke of it. When we are at Edoras, I will discuss it further and make arrangements."

Gimli had turned his attention to his food and was eating with gusto, so Lothiriel did not trouble him with conversation. Her gaze drifted around the feast hall. Elves, a dwarf, Hobbits, Men – the gathering was an astonishment. Had anyone told her earlier this year that it would come to this, she would have accounted them as mad. Elves were leaving Middle-earth. Dwarves kept to themselves, and Hobbits…Hobbits were a myth. Yet, her own eyes now refuted all she imagined she knew of these other peoples. Not only that, she had heard tell that representatives had come from Dale to the king's coronation, and other groups who had fought against them in the war had now made peace with Gondor. It was nearly impossible to comprehend all that had changed in just a few short months.

Once the feast ended, there was dancing, but many people chose to stand about talking instead. Lothiriel had lost sight of her family and Eomer in the crowd, and stood idly watching the dancing. After settling in at Rohan these past weeks, she somehow felt disconnected from the ebb and flow of the merriment around her. She was home, yes, and certainly a new king and queen were cause for rejoicing, in addition to the victory over Sauron. But home did not feel…like home, now. She had become used to communal gatherings for meals with the Riders or in the small chamber with just Eomer and Eowyn. Her feet knew intimately the corridors and rooms of Meduseld. Merethrond hovered over her cold and remote. Perhaps only her return to Dol Amroth would feel like a true homecoming.

"Oh, Lothiriel! You poor, poor dear! How dreadful for you to go through that, and now to face all of Gondor's nobility…"

Lothiriel was jerked rudely from her reverie by Lady Lachthoniel's address. "I was not harmed. I was in their company, nothing more. I deserve no censure!" she replied frostily.

"No, no, of course not, dear. But there will be talk, you _know_ that. How can they be sure you are not hiding the worst…aspects…of this? They will assume the worst. And any suitors will be given pause before offering for you after this. Even now, you see the men do not approach you for a dance." The eager venom in her eyes belied the sympathy of her words.

Neither woman had noticed Eomer's approach, nor glimpsed his change of expression as he overheard the conversation. Now, he made his presence known. "There is no reason anyone should 'talk' – Lothiriel has said she was unharmed. They should accept her word. As for suitors, if the man is unwilling to trust what she says he is not worthy of her notice." He gave Lothiriel a curt nod of respect, completely ignoring any politeness toward her companion, and stalked away.

A slight smile pulled at Lothiriel's lips, for it was clear that Eomer had effectively silenced Lachthoniel. She could not remember anyone ever being able to put the waspish woman in her place. Beyond her satisfaction with that turn of events, she could not help but notice the suffusion of pleasure that ran through her, a warm current spreading through her veins. Far from Rohan, Eomer continued to ride willingly to her rescue.

Still, it would never have occurred to Eomer to do otherwise. Now that she was home, it was her opportunity to return the favor. Eomer knew the new King better than did she, but Faramir was his Steward as well as being her cousin. Plus her father was deep in the King's counsel also. She had seen and learned enough while in Rohan to press for their being given assistance – harder than Eomer was apt to do. Even if he had not the stubborn pride of a man, the Eorlingas had plenty of it as a people. She had a feeling he would understate their true needs and try to get by on as little as possible. That she could not allow to happen. She must be sure to have a word with Faramir as soon as may be possible.

Without even noticing, she had moved away from Lady Lachthoniel, even as the woman was speaking to her, thus missing the afrronted glare her actions caused. Not that it would have mattered to her anyway. Lothiriel had no patience tonight for shrews. Another gathering she would do her duty and be all politeness, but right now she was just returned and in no mood to play those games.

Fortunately, King Elessar anticipated his guests from the north being weary after their travel and closed the gathering earlier than usual. He knew he would have the chance to visit with them more later, and less formally. This feast would suffice to appease the nobility.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	16. Resilience 16

_**NOTE: You get the chapter a little earlier in the day, since I'm home on vacation this week.**_

 **Chapter 16** (July 19)

For all that the gathering had ended fairly early, once the bulk of the guests were gone and the ladies off to their beds, Aragorn invited his friends and the Fellowship to join him for a final drink. They had ended up talking and drinking well past midnight. Uncharacteristically, Eomer did not rise until late morning, indulging himself since he had no demands on his immediate attention. He would make a quick trip down to the Rohirrim encampment to check that they were settled, and be back for discussions about the arrangements for Theoden's journey home and aid for the Mark. He bit back his reluctance at even acknowledging that latter subject. He did not like it, but it must be done. He was failing his people already; not seeking aid would only make it worse.

He was surprised to find Eothain sprawled in a chair in the outer chamber of his room, cleaning dirt from under his fingernails with a knife. "How long have you been here?" he asked, going to the washstand to splash water on his face, scrub his teeth to remove the stale taste and then run a brush through his sleep-tangled locks.

Eothain shrugged. "Long enough. It would seem my king is growing accustomed to finery and leisure, and no longer rises with the sun." Though he kept an even countenance, Eomer knew a dig when he heard one.

"As king, he may do as he bloody well chooses. If I had business to attend, I would have risen."

Eothain snickered behind him, but did not comment further.

"Have you eaten? I need to find food."

Eomer glanced at his friend, who gestured with the knife toward a small table by the window that he had not noticed. A plate covered with a cloth was there. Lifting it, he found bread and cheese, along with a couple of apples. A mug held tea that was mostly cooled, but still tasted well. He ate quickly, then bit into one apple but pocketed the other to take to Firefoot. When he moved toward the door, Eothain instantly sheathed his knife, rose and followed. They fell in side by side as they made their way through the endless corridors. All of a sudden, Eothain nudged him and gestured to a door on their left. "This way."

Though Eomer was sure they had not come that way the previous day, he followed and soon discovered Eothain had found a more direct exit to the outside of the King's House than going through the lengthy halls. "Handy," he acknowledged as they moved around the building.

Before they reached the corner, though, they heard angry voices and gave one another a look. Quickening their pace, they approached the noise to find several Gondorian soldiers facing off against a small party of Eomer's own men.

"Stop this!" Eomer's voice rang across the yard, and Ceorl fell back amid the other Riders. The Gondorian soldiers glanced in his direction. When they recognized him, they similarly retreated from the altercation.

"What is the meaning of this?" Eomer demanded.

At first, both groups were reluctant to speak, but finally Ceorl let out an angry breath. "They speak ill of one of their kinswomen, my Lord, a lady of our acquaintance…and one of us now." The final bit was said softly, but Eomer easily caught the words. He felt more than heard the growl from Eothain, standing slightly to his left. He raised a hand just as Eothain moved to take a step forward, halting his progress.

"Indeed? King Elessar would not approve of a slight on a lady. Perhaps we should take this conflict to him." The Gondorians shifted uneasily.

Following his lead, Eothain pointed out to Eomer, "The King is very busy just now, my Lord, to deal with disagreements."

The relief that had begun to creep onto the soldiers' faces stalled when Eomer nodded, saying, "Yes, that is true. Prince Imrahil, then. He is assisting Elessar in judging disputes. I am sure he would be willing to listen to the complaint and dole out whatever punishment might be needed."

One soldier hastily cleared his throat and said, "My Lord, I pray you will not bother Prince Imrahil or the King with this. Our words were ill-spoken and beneath us. Our apologies for any offense given, to your Riders or the lady herself. Similar words will never be spoken again by any man here."

For several long minutes, Eomer pretended to consider this, letting them stew. At length he said, "See that it is not. If I hear even a hint that it has happened, I will bring the full wrath of your King and Prince Imrahil down upon you and all guilty parties." He waved them away and began walking once more, going to lean on the wall overlooking the Pelennor.

After a short silence, Eothain said, "You should have let me handle them!"

"Eothain, you cannot fight all her battles for her. To try is to do her a disservice. Already she is fearful after so many unpleasant experiences. Do not coddle her until she is completely unable to stand up for herself. And, the fact is that people will gossip and backbite, despite the truth they have been told. Even taking them before the king or Imrahil is a threat with little force behind it. They might suffer great embarrassment, but it is doubtful any laws were broken that could be punished. Though I rather suspect they would do well to avoid dark places, where Lothiriel's brothers could lie in wait for them! Amrothos in particular is hot tempered."

"It might be wise for them to avoid dark places while I remain in the city!" Eothain hissed.

Eomer put a calming hand on his arm. "Do not stir up difficulties for us. That will not change their opinion, it will only make you feel better for having acted."

"You would let them speak of her so?" Eothain asked incredulously.

"I have no power to prevent it, any more than you do. They might silence their words near you, but once we are gone, they would say whatever they chose. This is a fight you cannot win with your fists, my friend." Despite his words, Eomer looked troubled. First the woman last night and now this. Lothiriel was in for a very rough patch now that she was returned home. Perhaps it would be better for her once she was safely in Dol Amroth again, where fewer would know of the kidnapping.

Eothain eyed his friend speculatively, but kept silent as he followed the king to the stables. They had a meeting with Elessar this afternoon. He would wait to press Eomer, but sooner or later the man needed to realize that he had feelings for Lothiriel, and act upon them.

Their day didn't improve from that point. The visit to the encampment took longer than planned, and then after hurrying back for their meeting with Elessar, it was to find it shortened due to issues that had come up and required his attention. They at least managed to discuss plans for transporting Theoden home, but the conversation about aid was postponed until the next morning.

By the time Eomer returned to his room to wash for supper and put on fresh clothing, he was in ill humor. And while there wasn't any reason that he should have seen Lothiriel during the course of the day, it rankled him that he hadn't. Not that he wanted to admit that. She was home. Of course she would be devoted to being with her family and recovering her life. He was used to seeing her each day, if only briefly over a meal; it was just another irritant.

Aragorn had assured him that tonight's supper would be the informal one intended for the previous night, without the unwanted additional guests. He supposed there was a chance Lothiriel would be included. He hoped she would be included. But it was not certain. Regardless, he took great care in making himself presentable. It had nothing to do with Lothiriel, of course. He was a king now and must act the part, even among friends.

xxxxx (July 20)

Eomer was out of sorts before he ever got out of bed. He had not slept well. It was not because he'd had only a brief glimpse of Lothiriel, with no chance to talk, the previous night. It was merely worry over all that needed doing with regard to his uncle and his people.

"Ow!" A stream of Rohirric imprecations streamed from his mouth. Blasted chest! He almost kicked it again in his anger, but managed to stop short, realizing the folly of such an action. Just what he needed – a fortnight's ride to Edoras with a broken foot paining him the entire way. The last thing he wanted was more pain.

He plunked down on the side of his bed to examine the toe he had stubbed on the dresser leg. Today was not shaping up to be any more agreeable than the previous one had been. With concerted effort, he wrestled his emotions into check. It would not help to inflict his bad temper on his friends, or the Gondorians he needed to have agree to provide aid. While he felt mostly assured that Aragorn and Faramir would not let anything prevent it, a tiny part deep inside of him doubted, afraid that it would all go wrong. All of yesterday had felt off kilter; he would not be entirely surprised if today followed a similar course. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his countenance, and shoved the thought aside. Eothain was waiting and he had work to do.

Eomer had no doubt that his friend sensed his disgruntled attitude, but to his credit, he kept silent. That alone helped him to relax slightly, determined to do what was necessary.

A servant quickly led them to the hallway outside the council chambers. "They should be done soon, My Lord."

Eomer merely nodded an acknowledgement. He and Eothain stood silently while they waited, though Eothain was markedly more at ease than his king.

To their surprise, when the door opened, Lothiriel and Faramir came out. Eomer glanced at Lothiriel, who seemed very pleased with herself, but it was Faramir who spoke.

"You have quite the champion, Eomer. Lothiriel has just been giving us details on Rohan's needs - quite forcefully, I might add. She means to ensure your people are given what they require." He smiled fondly at his cousin.

Eomer had frozen in place, and now anger was etched on his stony countenance. "Then I suppose I am not needed here!" he said tersely, turning on his heel and stalking back the way they had come.

For an instant, no one moved, including Eothain, who was uncertain what to do. At length, though, he cast a sympathetic look at Lothiriel, gave a bow and nod of his head before hastening to follow Eomer.

Faramir pressed his lips together, wondering at the response he had just gotten to his words. "I assumed you had discussed your involvement with Eomer, and were approaching us on their behalf, Lothiriel. I take it I was mistaken."

Her eyes welled with tears as she continued to stare in the direction they had gone. "I only wanted... I was just trying to…" With a broken sob, she dashed off down the hall also, though Faramir suspected she fled to her room rather than after the men of Rohan.

Just then, King Elessar stepped into the doorway, made curious when Eomer had not joined him inside. Before he could speak, Faramir told him, "I fear we have a serious problem, my lord."

Eothain caught up to Eomer as he crossed the courtyard, making for the gate. Taking Eomer's arm, he drew him to a halt. A quick glance around made sure they had privacy before he said, "Eomer, I am your friend. You made me the Captain of your guard because you trust me, and I assume you also value my opinion. Just as I would keep you safe from harm, I would keep you from making a great mistake, if I am able."

Eomer raised a warning finger to silence him. "Do not lecture me! I know my responsibilities, and I will fulfill them. I do not need outside distractions!" He turned on his heel and continued his charge across the grounds, and silently Eothain fell in behind him. Perhaps when the anger had passed he could get his friend to discuss this.

Obviously not making for the King's house and his room, Eomer blazed through the tunnel and on down the hill. People scattered before him as surely as they would a herd of runaway horses. Eothain didn't need to see the man's face; he had seen the scowl it probably wore all too often. Not surprising that none would waylay him when he wore that expression.

There was no evidence that the king was heading anywhere in particular, but Eothain dutifully followed him. On the third circle, he abruptly strode into an inn, and before Eothain reached him had already ordered ale. Eothain settled at a nearby table, catching the barmaid's eye to signal for a drink of his own. It was coming up on the noon hour and others were beginning to drift in for a meal.

Eomer downed his ale so quickly that Eothain was not sure he even tasted it. Then, just as suddenly, he was on his feet and out the door. Eothain took a hasty swallow of his own drink and scurried after him. They were going back up the hill. He supposed – maybe just hoped – that Eomer had worked off his fury and soon could be reasoned with.

Their entrance into the King's house was loud, and Eothain made his way through a contingent of servants gazing uncertainly after the young king who had barreled through their midst. Eothain quickened his step and caught up with Eomer as he entered his room. Pushing the door closed behind them, he tried again to discuss the situation.

"Eomer, please, can we not talk? I do not like to see you distressed like this." Eothain knew it was risky to bring it up again, but Eomer would not be at peace until it was resolved. To his surprise, his friend responded rather than ignoring his efforts.

"She had no right to interfere in our business!" Eomer snapped, pacing the room with wild-eyed fury.

"She meant well, Eomer. She was only trying to make sure we got the assistance that we need," Eothain soothed.

"It was not her place!"

"No, but she is young, and she is eager to demonstrate her gratitude. Likely she believed this would be a way to do it. And, she is not entirely wrong about that."

Eomer whipped around to eye his Captain questioningly, prompting Eothain to explain, "The Gondorians are more than willing to give aid, but they need guidance as to what would be helpful. Lothiriel has seen our circumstances, and heard us discuss the situation. She knows better than anyone here what our needs are, and they have readily responded to her direction. Eomer, it is entirely to our benefit."

Eomer's eyes narrowed at the mild and soothing response, then asked, "When did _you_ become a peacemaker? You were always the hot-headed one of us, while I was the more sensible."

Eothain shifted uneasily, unable to think of a way to avoid answering the question. Finally, he shrugged. "Lothiriel has…put ideas in my head."

"Ideas? What sort of ideas?" Eomer scowled, not sure he liked where this conversation might be leading.

"Ideas about…other solutions to problems than anger. Resolving or avenging wrongs in ways that do not involve my sword or my fists."

"What does that have to do with this discussion? I was not suggesting you assault the woman! I am simply displeased with her high-handedness." He made every effort to have his voice sound reasonable and calm, to strengthen his position.

Eothain sighed. "We live in a new world, Eomer. We may not have expected to return from the Black Tower, but we did. And now it is your responsibility to rebuild the Riddermark. It is my responsibility to do all that I can to help you. Including telling you when you are wrong. What would you have me do? Tell her you do not want her help, and ask her to go to the Gondorians and take back what she told them?" Eothain challenged.

"Do not be foolish! Of course not. She just… I am only saying…" Eomer stopped, suddenly unable to find a good argument. Moments before he had not doubted at all that Lothiriel was out of line to act as she had. But Eothain's remarks were valid – she had only been trying to help them.

And if that was true, then why was he angry about it? No…not angry so much as…embarrassed. His scowl deepened. He did not like that notion flitting into his mind even for a second. Was he too stubborn to accept a helping hand if his pride was wounded?

"Leave me."

Eothain sighed. "Yes, my lord." He headed out the door without further comment. Clearly Eomer was not yet willing to be reasonable. There was no point in talking to him in this state. He growled with frustration. He loved Eomer as a brother, but king or not, the man could be a thick-headed lout when he wanted!

xx

It took the entire walk to his home for Imrahil to decide how to proceed with regard to his daughter. Elessar had dismissed the council, telling them only that King Eomer had other urgent business and the meeting would need to wait until the next day to finalize discussions. Once they were gone, the King and Steward had confided the whole story to the Prince.

He was not overly surprised when he sat down to the dinner table and found himself joined only by his sons. From the looks on their faces, they realized something was amiss, though he doubted that Lothiriel had told them of the situation. They ate in expectant silence, but Imrahil was determined not to have the discussion until they finished lest all of them suffer indigestion. When at length it was clear no one had further interest in eating, he shoved back his plate and folded his hands on the table. Quietly he laid out the morning's events, to various exclamations of disbelief. But once he finished, all simply eyed one another, wondering what to do now.

"Erchirion, go and talk with her, please."

He looked up startled. "Me? Why me, Father? Would not Amrothos—"

Imrahil cut him off. "You. She listens to you. She will attempt to persuade Amrothos to her way of thinking. Right now, she needs to understand what she did wrong."

His father's voice brooked no argument. With a sigh of resignation, Erchirion rose and slowly made for Lothiriel's chamber, trying to think what to say to her. His knock at her door went unanswered, but he was sure she was in there and not wanting to see anyone. He knocked more firmly. "Lothiriel," he called through the door, "let me in. We must talk."

"Go away."

"No. Let me in. I am come at Father's bidding." It was underhanded to throw that at her, but it would shorten this standoff.

He heard her feet thump on the floor and begin moving toward the door. Listlessly, she unlocked the door and opened it slightly, but turned and walked away without encouraging him to enter. He pushed it open enough to get in and then closed it behind him. "Thiri, stop being petulant. I know you are upset, but pouting will not help. You are being childish."

She glared at him, but made no comment as she flung herself back across her bed. He went to her dressing bench, seated himself and waited.

It took several minutes before she capitulated. "I only meant to help! I do not see why everyone is angry with me! _Especially_ Eomer."

She had sat up for this first volley of her argument, and he moved over to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Have you not lived with men long enough to understand the delicacy of male pride by now?"

"But they need the help! And both Faramir and the King are more than willing to help, they are eager to help. They only wanted for guidance. I simply gave them that guidance."

"And stepped on toes as you usurped Eomer's authority. It was not your place to act without his knowledge and permission. By doing so, you have behaved as though you judged him incapable of speaking on behalf of his own people without your assistance. Do you truly think that little of his ability?"

"Of course not! I just…I wanted to help. To thank them for all they did for me. It was the one thing that I could do to even begin to repay them."

Mournfully she laid her head against his shoulder and his arm tightened around her. "You should have asked first," he told her quietly. "You should have given Eomer the chance to agree to your help without snatching that choice from him. Do you see, dearest?"

Tears were trickling down her face and she swiped at them. "Yes, I suppose I do." Then she murmured, "He will never forgive me. I have damaged relations between our kingdoms and, worse, I have destroyed the friendship we had formed while I was in Rohan."

Erchirion smiled as he kissed her hair. "Do not be so certain of that. The King and Eomer are good friends. I do not think you have done irreparable damage to relations. And, if you sincerely apologize, he may even forgive you your folly."

"Do you think he would?" She pulled back to look earnestly into his face, seeking reassurance.

"Eomer has never struck me as being unreasonable. He may not have liked what you did, but once his anger subsides, I doubt he will hold a grudge."

Erchirion remained with his sister a long while, talking and helping to calm her. He almost suggested that she go and make her apology to Eomer right away, but then decided it might be best to let Eomer's temper cool overnight. A good night's sleep often served to put troubles into clearer perspective.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	17. Resilience 17

**Chapter 17** (July 21)

The next day, a servant arrived at Eomer's room early to deliver a message from the King, inviting him to a private breakfast. Eomer had been up at first light. It was not hard to rise early if you never really managed a sound sleep through the course of the night.

The morning fog outside his window was as heavy as his spirits. How had everything managed to get out of hand yesterday? He had certainly not been himself in how he acted. Could he blame that solely on grief? Somehow, he did not honestly believe he could. His conversation with Eothain kept returning, and that single word repeated in his mind – embarrassed. Had he destroyed his friendship with Lothiriel because of his pride? He had always considered himself a rational man, so how to explain to anyone, himself most of all, his behavior.

Well, Aragorn was waiting. He had no doubt where the conversation would lead over their meal together. Perhaps his friend would offer counsel he could use to regain his balance and resolve this great upheaval.

Aragorn himself answered the knock on the door to his study, drawing Eomer into the room. Once the door was shut and they were alone, he got straight to his purpose.

"My friend, I am very sorry for the unfortunate turn of events yesterday. You do know that Lady Lothiriel only had your best interests at heart. In her youth and inexperience, she allowed her zeal to take precedence, and did not think the matter through before she came to us. Had Faramir not been her cousin, she might have been more daunted at approaching the King. Can you not forgive her, my friend? I do not like to see unpleasantness between our houses. And Lothiriel did not ask for anything we were not full willing to give. We waited only to learn what supplies would best help your people. Whatever else, the lady does have an eye for detail. She was quite specific about numbers and need, whether you discussed it with her or she simply observed what was lacking. However, I would feel better if you verified what she told us. For all her good intent, I think you know far more about the Mark's needs than does she."

The food was already set out on the table, and Aragorn gestured to Eomer to sit.

Eomer scrubbed at his face, then eyed his friend ruefully. "What a mess! Certainly I had not expected to find myself at odds with the lady upon our return to Minas Tirith. She has been most agreeable until now."

Aragorn laughed. "She is still agreeable, friend. You simply cannot see it at the moment, though I think perhaps Eothain has been trying to nudge you to reconsider."

Eomer rolled his eyes. "Eothain! Those two have become thick as thieves. I do not think there is a woman alive he cannot ingratiate himself with. It was useful, early on. I had other concerns and no time or inclination to be sociable with our 'guest'."

"Perhaps, but Eothain also has a good heart. And, notwithstanding his very poor counsel regarding me and two friends several months ago in Rohan, he usually offers good advice!"

Eomer chuckled, recognizing Aragorn's reference. "Yes, usually." He became pensive as he reached for a platter of ham. "But I do not believe he adequately understands how different my life is, now that I am King. I often wish I were merely Third Marshal again, especially if it meant Theoden and Theodred lived."

"You did not choose your current situation, but now that it has happened you must use all that you possess to see it through. Gandalf told Frodo that on our journey, but I think it truly applies to you also. Hard as it may be, I have confidence in your abilities."

Eomer smiled, feeling a portion of the tension ease out of him. "Thank you, my friend. I am honored your opinion of me is that great."

While Aragorn was sure his council would not be happy about it, he drew details from Eomer in conversation over their meal to substantiate or correct what Lothiriel had already told them. His friend had enough to cope with just now, and did not need the burden of facing his sometimes quarrelsome council. Eomer did not look relaxed when they parted, but many of the lines of worry on his face had softened. That was encouraging.

Eomer spent the next few hours after his meeting with Aragorn down in the Rohirrim encampment. He shared the details of their planned journey with regards to Theoden, and was then apprised of arrangements that had been made for more of their kinsmen to come home as well. He was pleased to find that only about half a dozen men would need longer to recover. Had it not been a funeral procession, he might have tried harder to find a way to take them anyway, but the size of the travelling party was already unwieldy, and he did not want them rushed. And, much as he did not like to admit it, he suspected the skill of Gondor's healers in aiding their recoveries was greater than in his homeland. Yet another item to add to his list of what needed to be accomplished – improve their care of the sick and injured.

Eomer and Eothain had been back in the King's House less than an hour when a servant advised that Lady Lothiriel requested an audience with him. He had not expected that, though he rather felt he should have. Still, though he wanted to put their differences to rest, he had no clue what to say to her. Eothain was settled on the sofa in the outerchamber of his rooms, clearly intending to remain. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but it was best to have someone else there, for the sake of propriety. He nodded to the servant to show Lothiriel in.

"My Lord King." Lothiriel swept effortlessly forward and gave a low curtsy, her eyes demurely downcast. She was completely proper and noble. He found it disconcerting. This was not the woman he had come to know over those weeks of their acquaintance in Rohan. That Lothiriel had been informal, comfortable to be around and talk with about any manner of things.

Unexpectedly, he found himself noticing tiny details that had never before caught his attention: the ease with which she moved, the tendrils of dark hair that escaped and curled about her face regardless how her hair was arranged, the smooth curve of her cheek, the tiny mole on her throat.

She was holding the curtsy – that could not be pleasant – and he realized she awaited a response from him. Hastily he said, "Lady Lothiriel. Welcome." Probably he should have said more, but his mind was annoyingly blank now that she stood before him.

Rising to a standing position, but keeping her head bowed, she told him, "I have come to offer my apology for my officious behavior. I should not have presumed to speak for you, nor taken it upon myself to meddle in your concerns. It was…unforgivable of me."

As she spoke, Eomer found himself barely hearing her words. Instead, all his attention was focused on her nervous chewing of her lip between the sentences of her apology. A most familiar gesture. Somehow this time was different, though. With a jolt, he realized he was not particularly conscious of the gesture, but rather of the lips themselves. He did not recall that being the case prior to this. Part of his mind knew that he should be listening to her apology so as to answer it, but there were those lips…

"Heh-hemmm."

Eomer started at the sound. He had forgotten about Eothain staying with him for his audience with Lothiriel. She had finished speaking and stood meekly before him, gazing at the floor. His inattention had caught up with him. He had no idea if she had asked him a question, made a suggestion or something else altogether, and thus had no idea how best to respond.

Though that was an inexcusable lapse on his part, he was finding it difficult to care. This… _meek_ Lothiriel before him was annoying. She had never been subservient to him before, and he realized he did not like it being so now. Apologize if she must, but grovel? Never!

Eomer knew she deserved an apology from him in return, but those were words that did not come easily to him. Apologies meant you had made a mistake, and he did not like making mistakes, particularly in the presence of others. Having spent most of his life avoiding errors at all costs, he managed not to have to give many apologies. This one stuck in his throat, just as had all the ones before this which he had been forced to utter.

He took a step toward her, causing her eyes to lift to meet his. "You… I…" Her gaze further unsettled him. Why could he not form an intelligent sentence! Behind him, Eothain groaned audibly, making clear his frustration with Eomer's pitiful efforts. He glanced over his shoulder to glare at his friend, who was completely unperturbed by it.

Turning back to Lothiriel, he hesitated, then extended his hand to her. She glanced at it, then up at his face. When he did not withdraw his hand, she tentatively placed her hand in it.

With an effort, he stumbled into his words. "Both of us, perhaps, have not acted or spoken as we should. I am sorry for my anger with you and the distress it has caused you. I now do realize your intentions were pure, though I did not see that then. Shall you forgive me my ill temper?"

Her brow crinkled and her head did that familiar tilt to the side. "You are apologizing to me?" Whatever for, Eomer? You had every right and I should not have –"

He raised a hand to stop her words. "You did what you have always done, and what I have always valued – you acted in the best manner you knew. Perhaps it is the way of Gondor that ladies should not speak their minds, but I do not find that admirable. I preferred it when you told me your opinions without hesitation. I would have you ever be honest and straightforward with me. We are friends, are we not?"

"Friends…yes, I hope we are that," she said quietly, a thoughtful look in her eye.

There was an unmistakable snicker from Eothain, though he tried halfheartedly to disguise it as a cough.

Eomer turned again to look at him, his eyes narrowed. "You wish to speak, Captain?"

"No, no," Eothain assured him, grinning broadly. "By all means, continue your pleasant conversation with the lady!"

Eomer's eyes flared a warning: _I will deal with you later!_

"My lord…" Lothiriel's voice drew Eomer's attention back to her. "If I may, I would wish to continue seeking aid on behalf of the Mark. There are those in the south near Dol Amroth that might provide goods not readily available at Minas Tirith, and I cannot think a single shipment will suffice to your needs. Would you…would you permit me to act on your behalf in this regard?"

She would not look at him, chewing her lip as she kept her gaze fixed somewhere around his chin. This felt weak, permitting her involvement, but Aragorn and Eothain were right that she only desired to help. What harm in allowing it if it made her feel better. "I…I suppose that would be fine. Your offer is quite generous." He had not intended to sound gruff, but he heard it that way in his own ears. He dared not hope that she would not have noticed.

Finally her eyes came up to meet his, a slight glimmer in them more in keeping with what he was used to seeing. "Thank you."

She paused, shifting with embarrassment, and he realized she was no more comfortable than he was in this conversation. But neither did he know how to bring them back to the ease they had once known. At length, she curtsied again. "I will leave you now. I am sure you will be busy before you depart on the morrow. Be well, my lord." Her eyes flicked to Eothain and she added, "You also, Eothain."

The captain rose from the couch as she turned to go, and wanting to prolong being in her company before they were separated for who knew how long, Eomer walked with her to the door. There, he reached for her hand and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I am grateful, Lothiriel, for all you have done, and intend to do." He was silent, trying to think what more to say, but then finally ended with an unsatisfactory, "Ferthu hal."

Eothain stared at Eomer's back as he closed the door after her. This was wrong, very wrong. How could Eomer simply stand there and watch her walk away, not knowing if he would ever see her again? He no doubt had already irritated the king with his behavior while Lothiriel was in the room, but he felt obligated to at least talk sense into his friend.

"Eomer, I know you feel your responsibility to the Mark, and it is right that you should, but you do not have to give up your own happiness to be a good king. Gondor has agreed to help us – Aragorn, Faramir, Imrahil. All are more than willing to send whatever they can to assist us. And now Lothiriel has made it very plain how desirous she is to help us…help _you_. Even more than food and supplies, I think maybe you need her help, need her. What you feel for her is not selfish."

"What do you know of my feelings?" Eomer snapped, looking away.

Eothain gave a snort. "It is apparent that I know more than you do, or at least than you are willing to admit. I have long been your friend and I am not blind, Eomer. You rescued her, yes, but you also stole her heart, as she has stolen yours. Own to it and yield. Allow yourself to be happy."

Eomer swiped a hand over his face, then, choosing his words carefully, said, "I do not deny that Lothiriel is very pleasant and fine company. But I cannot be thinking of courting anyone. I must keep my focus where it is most needed."

Eothain rolled his eyes. "Fine. I will argue no further. My words fall on stubbornly deaf ears. But I will say this, you are making a mistake, and you will regret it." He turned and left before Eomer could respond.

If the king noticed the breach of protocol, it did not reflect on his face. He stared long at the door where Eothain had departed, his emotions roiling. Part of him wanted desperately to take heed of Eothain's words. His friend _did_ know him well. However much he tried to stay attentive to the work at hand, Lothiriel kept invading his thoughts. Whether or not she felt the same, he was not as certain. Eothain – the whole of the Eorlingas, really – wanted him to find a wife, but could he trust to so short an acquaintance? Yes, all in the Mark who had met Lothiriel had liked her, but she was very young, and though eager and willing to work, that did not a queen make.

He gave a low growl. Eothain, blast him! Why did he have to pursue the subject so doggedly just now? His friend might know him well, but he did not understand the burden weighing upon Eomer with his new kingship. His life was no longer just about him; he was responsible for the well-being of every person in the Riddermark. Let him see Theoden laid to rest, and the Mark through the coming winter, and then he would be ready to look for a bride. Now was NOT the time!

xxxxx (July 22)

Imrahil's entire family turned out to see them off the next morning. Though Eomer would have liked to think Lothiriel would have come even if her father were not departing with him, he wasn't entirely sure that was true. Her farewell the previous day had sounded final. However, even if she was there only for her family, she gave him a cordial smile and slight curtsy when he looked in her direction. A small part of his mind wondered if she would have joined them if he had asked her. Ridiculous notion. Of course she would not want to make that tedious journey twice more. She had long been away from her home. Despite the friends she'd made in the Riddermark, he was sure she was glad to stay right where she was for a good long while.

He shoved his musings to a back corner of his mind. He had more important details to focus on just now. He was taking his king home to rest with his forefathers. His uncle deserved no less than his full attention in seeing it done.

At length the goodbyes were said, riders mounted and the slow trek down through the city streets began. Gondor had not forgotten Theoden King's sacrifice on their behalf, and the streets were lined with people, many strewing flowers in the cortege's path as they watched in respectful silence. Those not in the streets watched from windows facing the road or from atop walls along their course. It was not merely men and women either; entire families were gathered. Eomer suspected the majority of the City's people were in attendance.

Eomer had always prided himself on concealing his emotions, but this was the most tested he had ever been. His jaw clenched so tight he was sure his teeth would shatter under the pressure of it. If the simple procession was this difficult, how in the world was he going to be able to make it through the actual funeral? No. He must not think of that now. Face each challenge as it came. Eowyn would be beside him then. That would help.

To his surprise, as they exited from the city, the road to the Rammas Echor was also lined with Gondorians. Even soldiers on crutches had hobbled down to be there and acknowledge Theoden's last farewell. Many knew that they yet lived, perhaps wounded or maimed, yes, but lived, thanks to Theoden leading his army to their defense. That kind of debt could never be repaid. Rohan's King would never again sit at a supper table with his family around him; they had been given that privilege despite all odds.

The emotion was so thick in the air from all sides, that passing through the breach in the wall felt as though they left a stifling hot room to step out into cool, refreshing air. The party as a whole appeared to draw a collective breath to steady themselves, and then they pressed forward on their long journey.

xx

Lothiriel and her brothers had headed back to their house soon after the company departed. She wondered if they would have gone to Edoras also, had she not been here. They said they remained because the Eorlingas would not be able to house many guests, and they chose to let their father represent them. Lothiriel did not find that an entirely satisfying explanation. But, it was done. And she had work to do in making good on her promise to Eomer and her friends in Rohan.

With the departure of the funeral cortege, and its inclusion of the King and Queen of Gondor, that meant social gatherings dwindled. She dug out the list she had begun at Edoras and began planning out who to see and how to proceed. The more she considered the matter, the more she thought it might be wisest to focus her attentions primarily on the southern fiefs. Though Minas Tirith was the largest city and the wealthiest population, she was not sure how many citydwellers would have the sort of goods that the Eorlingas would need. And with King Elessar and Faramir pledging aid on Gondor's behalf, she decided she would count that as Minas Tirith's contribution.

She was anxious to get home and begin her work in earnest, but there was one task that still needed doing at Minas Tirith. Until that was accomplished, she could not leave. Had there been the chance, she would have asked Gimli to make introductions to the dwarves working on the gate, but with all that happened with Eomer, that opportunity had been lost.

She could manage approaching the nobility and making requests, but it took her a couple of days to work out how to go about it with dwarves. She haunted the area around the gate, and watched them from the shadows to learn a little of them before actually proceeding.

Her frequent trips through the levels of the city were not altogether pleasant. At first she hadn't noticed the looks or the whispers as she passed, but as she had browsed in a shop one day, she had been unable to miss overhearing a none-too-quiet conversation. She knew the two women involved, and well knew they were gossips of the meanest kind, but that did not make it any easier to hear their words. It was evident that Lady Lachthoniel wasn't the only one who chose to believe the worst and ignore her avowals to the contrary.

She had hurried out of the shop, taking measures to be unnoticed as she went, but the words lingered in her mind long afterwards. It was then she began to look around her and see that she was more an object of interest than she had realized. It wasn't everyone, of course, engaging in the backbiting. Whether it was because they didn't know of her abduction or simply didn't care, she didn't know, but the only discussion of it that came to her ears was not any she wanted to hear, and certainly it was not imbued with the sympathy she had received in Rohan.

She might have taken longer before approaching the dwarves, but she wanted that detail taken care of, the sooner to make for Belfalas. Perhaps there she could find peace.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire


	18. Resilience 18

**Chapter 18** (July 25)

 _ **NOTE: From here on, because Eomer and Lothiriel are in two different places, the actual calendar dates may be slightly out of sync as you read along. However, that is the best way to preserve the flow of the story as it moves back and forth between what each is doing. I don't think you'll find it confusing so long as you expect it and don't wonder why you jumped back in time, date-wise, occasionally.**_

Lothiriel watched the dwarves at work, not as sure about her plan now that she was here. The brief experience with Gimli certainly had not made her knowledgeable of dwarvish ways. Was this the best way to approach them, and how might they react? Drawing a steadying breath, she straightened. This needed to be done, and she would not fail her friends through faint-heartedness.

She had waited until near the noon hour, thinking it best not to disturb their work. If she bought them a meal and a drink at a local tavern, that might improve her chances of their agreeing to her proposal. Gimli had certainly been fond of food and drink, and she hoped that was characteristic of his kinsmen also. Her many visits, watching them from off to the side, had allowed her to determine that their leader was a dwarf by the name of Bafur. He was the one she would start with and, if that failed, then she would try again with one of the others.

She chewed her lip nervously as she came up behind him. A couple of the others had noticed her and watched her approach, but as it was evident she was headed for Bafur, they turned back to what they were doing and paid her no further mind.

"Not wise to be here, lass. Building can be a tricky business. Best move along into the City where it's safer."

Lost in her deliberations, Lothiriel had not realized that Bafur had both taken notice of her and turned to meet her. "Oh, of course, I will be careful, but…I…I would wish to speak with you regarding the dwarves, and possibly employing a few of them elsewhere."

"Lass, can you not see we already have work to do? Go along with you now." He started to turn away.

"No, please, wait! Hear me through before you decide. May I…may I buy you dinner and drink for your repast?"

He looked back and eyed her speculatively. "Aye, then, I'll hear what you have to say over food and drink." Turning to the dwarves still working, though many were clearly trying to listen in on the conversation, he called, "Lads, get food. We'll take up in an hour."

When he returned to Lothiriel, he gestured toward the city. "Lead on."

"I confess, I do not often eat at the taverns. Is there one that you especially favor?" she asked.

He studied her appraisingly, then suggested, "Maybe The Three Bells in the second circle. That should be safe enough for a lady, and the food is decent, and plentiful."

Lothiriel got the impression the 'plentiful' part was of more importance to him than the taste. "If you would show the way. I am not acquainted with it."

"This way, then. What did you say your name was?"

"I did not say, but I am Lothiriel, daughter of the Prince of Dol Amroth."

"Ah. Yes, I met your Father. Seemed a good enough fellow; at least Gimli thought well of him and I trust my kinsman's judgement. I am Bafur."

"You and Gimli are related?"

"All dwarrows are related, lass, some just closer than others. We have no strangers to us among our own people."

"I see. That is a rather nice sentiment," Lothiriel acknowledged.

It had not taken long to reach The Three Bells and they were early enough that it was not yet crowded. They found a table off to the side. When the barmaid went to fetch their meal, Bafur leaned back and fixed his gaze on her. "Well, lass, what be this about? What use have you of dwarves?"

"In the handful of times I spoke with Master Gimli, he told me that dwarves were the best in Middle-earth for working with stone. From what else he said, I know that he meant more along the lines of mining and building great stonework kingdoms, but I suspect you are able to work on a smaller scale also."

Bafur nodded, but remained silent. Lothiriel continued, "I have heard that your company has been working on the gate for over a fortnight, and it is well along. I was wondering if you could spare dwarves to go to Rohan and help with the rebuilding there. Wood is in short supply and will be needed for fuel. With your greater proficiency with stone you might be able to help them construct stone shelters to withstand winter until more resources can be had. Whatever else, Rohan has a plentiful supply of stone."

The dwarf's eyebrows came together, forming a line across his forehead. "As you said, we build cities and monuments of stone, not rock huts."

"Yes, I know, but with your knowledge of stone and stonework, I thought maybe you would be able to guide the building of even these humble structures to make them the soundest possible. They are in desperate need, and winter will be upon them soon."

Lothiriel found she could not read a dwarf's expression, at least in this case. Whether her plea had softened him at all, she could not tell. The food arrived just then, interrupting further conversation, and Bafur downed half his mug of ale before offering a response. Since the barmaid was passing by just then, Lothiriel caught her eye and instructed, "Keep it filled, please," gesturing to the dwarf's mug.

As the girl departed their table, Bafur chuckled. "Well, lass, certainly you know how to persuade a dwarf to your way of thinking!" He gave a booming laugh before tucking into his food.

It wasn't a clear victory, but she took it as a good sign and began to eat also.

When at last Bafur pushed away his plate and washed down the last bite of his meal, Lothiriel was nearly quivering to learn his response. He had not disrupted his eating with conversation, leaving her unable to determine where his inclinations were tending on the matter. Thunking the mug down on the table, he fixed her with his gaze again. "To business, then. Usually when dwarves work, they are paid for their efforts, whatever they may be. At Gimli's request, we have forgone outright payment to repair the great gate, though the king is seeing that we are housed and fed for the duration of our stay here. He also intends to send us home with greater comfort than we came. Rohan suffers, this we know. Gimli spoke of it. In exchange for our work at Helm's Deep we are to be allowed exploration of the Glittering Caves that Gimli mentioned. What shall be our recompense for building stone houses, then?"

Lothiriel chewed her lip, considering the question. Finally, she told him, "I will see that you have a wain with horses and supplies to carry you to Rohan, and from there wherever you choose. I am not sure what I may offer a dwarf that he would deem of value."

He was eyeing her, somewhat expectantly. Lothiriel reached up and removed the necklace she wore concealed beneath her dress. She rarely wore her jewels outside of the house, and certainly not unless accompanied by her brothers, not wanting to risk the temptation they might present for someone to rob her. Her hands came away holding a necklace of black pearls that she eased toward the dwarf, though concealed from view by the rest of the room.

"Understand, I do not offer this particular necklace. It belonged to my mother and has value to me far beyond its worth."

Bafur's eyes had gone round at the sight of it, and he drew it near to study more closely. "These are magnificent. I have never seen their like."

She nodded. "Most pearls you would have seen are freshwater pearls. These come from the sea, in the warmer waters to the south. Though a creation of nature, they are not common and therefore much desired by lovers of jewels. The House of Dol Amroth has been collecting these gems of the sea for over a century, and prizes them above all other jewels. Indeed, we hold them to be a mark of our house."

She reached for the necklace, noticing the reluctance with which Bafur relinquished it to her. Quickly putting it back on, and tucking it out of sight, she continued. "I cannot offer immediate delivery, for this is the only sample I have with me, but if we reach an agreement, I will send to Dol Amroth for what I need. Or, if you will allow me the time, I would go and collect them myself that I may make certain of the quality you receive. If I give you a single item, like this necklace, you would need to sell it in order to share it with any other dwarves that went to Rohan. I could look for pieces of similar value, one for each dwarf, or if you prefer, I could obtain a few beads for each dwarf so they could craft their own jewel, or sell them individually."

Bafur took another swallow of ale, his gaze fixed on her neck where he knew the pearls lay hidden. Then, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say, he told her, "Lass, Gimli has formed a great fondness for the rulers of Gondor and Rohan. I know he would not want me to take advantage of them when providing our help in rebuilding. I will speak with the others, and see who is willing, and which form of payment they prefer. But I expect that necklace would be payment sufficient for the lot of us, let alone just a couple. Once I know how many will go, we can discuss further our compensation." He chuckled, "Gimli would want us to provide the work for next to nothing but our food and board, but having seen those beauties, I cannot refuse the chance of obtaining even one of them!"

Lothiriel smiled at him. "Indeed, Master Bafur, I quite understand. And you would not be alone in that – many would wish to own them. The generosity of Gimli, and you, is admirable, but as this will be keeping you from your homes far longer than expected, recompense would be appropriate." She paused, thinking, then added, "You mentioned there had been discussion of dwarves working at Helm's Deep. I cannot speak to that, but perhaps while you are in Rohan for the building of shelter, you may counsel with the king. It is possible that the wisest course would be for you to go and winter at Helm's Deep rather than return home, letting others come join you as they could. If that were the case, then I would be able to travel to Dol Amroth for the jewels, and could either bring them to Rohan in the spring or send them back with someone when they come here for Lady Eowyn's wedding."

The dwarf swallowed the last of his ale and wiped the dampness from his mouth and beard. "Well, then, time's a'wasting. Let me get back to the gate. Once we finish for the day, I will talk to the lads and judge their interest."

"Would you have me return at any particular hour, or do you wish to send a message when you are ready to talk again? You are, of course, welcome to come to our home, but it is in the fifth circle and I do not know that you wish to make that climb."

"No worries, lass. I'll send word or come myself." He shoved to his feet and followed as Lothiriel went to pay for their meal and then they exited the tavern. "Maybe I'll have an answer by tomorrow," he told her.

She gave a brief curtsy. "My great thanks, Master Bafur. I look forward to our next meeting."

The dwarf moved away, and Lothiriel continued on to her next task. Since she was already near the first circle, she headed for a blacksmith shop to inquire about the purchase of a wain and horses. With the recent war, she was not certain what might be available, but hopefully they had been able to build new wains if not many had survived. If no horses were available, probably she could convince her father to donate two. She knew it would not be his first choice, as he was very proud of the animals they bred, and rightly viewed them as far superior to common cart horses, but for this worthy cause she felt sure he could be persuaded if necessary.

xx

Bafur was as good as his word. A message came the next morning that he had found four dwarves willing to go with him. Lothiriel did not think he had originally intended to include himself when they spoke, but after he glimpsed the pearls he must have changed his mind. They wanted to meet for further discussion after they ended their work for the day. She replied to him that she would meet them at the gate and treat them to supper at The Three Bells. When she received no argument back, it was evident they had accepted her offer.

It was coming together. Goods were needed to be sent, but hands to help with the labor were also important. And the presence of the dwarves among the builders might free the Eorlingas for other tasks.

Lothiriel made her trek down to the gate at the appointed hour, and arrived just as they were putting tools away for the night. She soon discovered that Bafur had a rather mild temperament for a dwarf, for most of the others were more boisterous, as Gimli had been. It was evident they were known in The Three Bells, for food and ale appeared only minutes after they got seated. The dwarves had claimed a large table in a back corner of the room, where they could separate themselves from others and talk freely. For their conversation with her, it was especially appropriate.

"How soon are you wanting us to go," asked Frain, around a mouthful of bread. "The gate isn't done yet."

"No," Bafur replied, "but Mar will take over guiding the work when I leave. He's built many a fine thing in his long years."

Lothiriel knew which dwarf he meant. When she observed them that first day, she had noticed the quite wizened fellow and wondered at his being included in a building party. She had heard him called Mar and remembered the name.

"When do we go, then?" Oli asked.

Lothiriel chose to be the one to answer that. "Just now the funeral party will be traveling to Edoras for the burial of Theoden King. I would not have you arrive during that, or while they yet have guests who came to say their farewells. Going by wain will take you longer – it took us a good fortnight when we came here. It will probably take that long for the return. If you do not depart until the first of the month, you would arrive mid-month. They expected to bury the king about the tenth and that would put you there almost a week later. By then, they should be ready to resume their winter preparations."

Frod nodded. "Yes, yes. That is sound. We will have another four days here to continue on the gate and prepare for the journey."

"We should send word home to our kin that we won't be back as soon as expected, possibly not until spring," Oli said.

They fell to discussing other details of their planning that did not require Lothiriel's participation, and she turned her attention to her meal.

As their appetites were finally sated, their conversation also waned. Slowly all were sitting back, drinking a final mug of ale and had turned to look at her. Presuming that meant they were waiting for her to speak, Lothiriel re-entered the discussion. "Is there aught we have forgotten, do you think? I have spoken to someone about a wain to carry you, and will make arrangements for a horse or horses to pull it. I did not make payment, thinking perhaps you would like the chance to see what I have found and determine if it suits you."

Fel had not spoken appreciably during the course of the meal, letting the others take the lead, but now he chuckled. The others turned to look at him, and Lothiriel realized that when he spoke, they tended to listen. "Lass, you do not know dwarves very well yet, I can see. As long as we have food, shelter and work to do, we are not too particular about the details. A sturdy wain drawn by sound animals will be quite sufficient to our needs. We do have the ponies we rode from the north when we came here, so we can use the wain for carrying supplies or even sleeping if there is room. We will make do."

The others laughed. "Aye!" Oli agreed. "I say we load it up with ale for the trip!"

That set off another round of laughter and good-natured rowdiness amongst them until finally Bafur shoved to his feet. "It's getting late lads, and there's still work here on the morrow. Best be getting some rest."

They said their goodnights in the street. As Lothiriel headed off alone to the upper circles, Fel's eyes followed her. "Perhaps we should see her home."

The others turned to look, but Lothiriel had already faded into the darkness. "She would have asked, if she wanted company. Right?" Frod suggested.

Not entirely convinced of that, they turned for their lodgings, willing to believe she would be safe on her own.

Lothiriel had crossed through the fourth gate when a man stepped into the light of a nearby lamp casting a weak glow over the street. "Well now, little lady. Looking for company are we?" He leered at her, letting his gaze rake leisurely over her despite her cloak concealing all that was of interest to him.

Without thinking, Lothiriel's hand flew to the broach clasping the halves of the cloak. When the man reached toward her, he let out a howl of pain, looking down to see blood flowing from his hand. Lothiriel was already gone when he looked up, racing as fast as her feet would carry her, but keeping the dagger ready in her hand.

Deciding against following, the man spat in her direction. Muttering curses while he examined his injured hand, finally he slunk off to bind it. A mug of ale might ease the pain – to his hand and his pride.

Lothiriel was so out of breath at the fifth gate that she could barely get out the password. "Is anything wrong, miss?" One of the guards asked.

"No. No, I am fine." She ducked through the gate and took off running again, and didn't slow until she reached the yard of Imrahil's townhouse. Not wanting her family to see her in such a state, she kept to the shadows while waiting for her breath to return to normal. When was she going to learn! It had been stupid not to ask for one of the dwarves to attend her home in the dark. This must stop. She could not keep placing herself foolishly in danger and hope to escape or be rescued. Her stomach turned over at the sight of blood on the dagger, and she stooped to swipe it in the grass. She was glad to have had it with her, and thankful for Eowyn teaching her to use it, but she should avoid that being necessary. She might not have been as fortunate in the outcome.

Slowly her breathing was becoming less ragged, but her guilt was increasing. Eomer and Eothain had made her feel safe and she had put aside any misgivings. The danger was past. The bandits were caught. But, though she would like to convince herself that no one would dare harm Prince Imrahil's daughter, the fact was that someone had dared. And others would dare also, given the opportunity. She might wish she could wander at will, but she knew – had long known – that was not wise. It was time she started actually remembering that. And not after the fact when something had already happened. She swiped away the trickle of tears with annoyance. She was not a child that needed someone always telling her what to do or not to do. She could make those choices and make them correctly. She _would_ do it.

She stood in the yard quite a long while before she had calmed enough to feel it safe to go inside and be seen. Nevertheless, she did not linger greeting servants or family, but made straight for her room. Best to keep out of sight for the remainder of the evening. She was sure her folly would be revealed in her face.

xx

Until now, Lothiriel had tried to ignore the looks she received and the whispering behind hands as she passed. She kept telling herself interest would wane and all would be as it was. But with the attempt on her person the previous night, she was no longer convinced of that. Given a choice, she would have left that very day for home, but she must remain until the dwarves were on their way to the north. A boat was leaving that same morning. She would see the dwarves off and board it immediately.

If her brothers wondered at her determination to sail south on the first of the month, they did not question it. Deciding they were ready to head home as well, they booked passage for the three of them and began to prepare.

TBC

 _ **NOTE: From Thain's Book online: 'Gimli brought a colony of Dwarves from the Lonely Mountain to the caverns of Helm's Deep and became the Lord of the Glittering Caves. He and his people rebuilt the gates of Minas Tirith out of mithril and steel and did many other great works in Gondor and Rohan. Gimli lived contentedly in the Glittering Caves for many years, and his friend Legolas dwelled in the gardens of Ithilien.'**_

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	19. Resilience 19

**Chapter 19** (Edoras, 16 Aug)

"My lord? There are…dwarves, wishing to see you." Gamling's hesitancy drew Eomer's notice.

"Dwarves? Why would they wish to see me? Who are they - Gimli and his kinsmen?" Gimli had departed with the Fellowship two days prior, but he supposed it was possible he had met a party of his kinsmen on the way and had returned. Yet Gamling did not mention Legolas, making that seem unlikely.

"No…well, perhaps it is best you read this letter of introduction they brought with them."

Eomer slowly took the letter from his steward, at a complete loss to think of a reason for dwarves visiting Meduseld. True, Gimli had indicated he would send for others to help with the rebuilding at the Hornburg, but no plans had been made on that as yet.

" _My lord Eomer King:_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. Please give my regards to Eowyn also._

Lothiriel? What could she possibly have to do with dwarves on his doorstep?

 _It occurred to me that with the shortage of men to take on the tasks necessary for winter preparations, that you would be in need of workers. With their knowledge of stonework, I deemed the dwarves an ideal choice, though they have reminded me that building small dwellings is not usually part of their skills. There is plenty of rock in the Mark, and they will know which is best for the desired purpose. They can guide others as necessary during the actual building of homes and shelters for animals._

 _Their leader, Bafur, has also mentioned that Master Gimli spoke of dwarves assisting with repairs at the Hornburg. These five are prepared to winter there, if that is your desire, so as to view the damage and determine what will be needed to restore it._

 _Be assured, I have compensated them already (or will as soon as may be possible). You have only to find them a place to stay and see that they are fed while they are working._

 _Very kindest regards,_

 _Lothiriel_

He reread it twice more, not sure he understood fully why he was holding such a letter. Dwarves? He supposed she was correct – they could use the assistance in building, and dwarves were good hard workers. He shook himself from his reveries. Best to speak with the dwarves and then determine what to do with them.

xxxxx

For no reason he could define, Eomer was hesitant to tell Imrahil that his daughter was responsible for the dwarves' arrival. With Gimli gone he had not that excuse, thus he merely told everyone the dwarves had come to help, allowing them to assume it was at Gimli's behest.

Having begun to make good use of the empty houses and stables at Edoras, Eomer decided it would be best to settle the dwarves at Aldburg under Elfhelm's direction. The dwarves rested two days and then the King accompanied them to Aldburg to get them settled in and make arrangements with his Marshal.

Eomer never tired of seeing Aldburg on the horizon as he drew closer. For all that he had spent most of his life at Edoras, and now must remain there, Aldburg would ever be home to him. He had always anticipated that if he survived the War he would return here to live out his days, but a few short months had irrevocably changed that. Now that was not a possibility for him. Perhaps he should close the house, since it would be little used, but Betersel and others had been there several years and he could not bring himself to contemplate it. He would just have to make sure to visit periodically. Certainly any trips to Gondor could be broken here overnight.

It was simple enough to provide housing for the dwarves upon arrival. His father had seen that a small barracks was built near the house to accommodate a dozen household guards. With the War ended and the house largely unoccupied, there had been no reason to maintain them and that building had been shuttered. Eomer had figured to use it for housing during the winter, for those willing to shelter within the town walls, but first it would give the dwarves plenty of room and privacy. He was sure Betersel would see to their meals and keep the barracks in good order during their stay.

The dwarves were eager to get to work. The very day after their arrival, Elfhelm escorted them out to the area where the structures were needed. With all well in hand, Eomer intended to return to Edoras after the noon meal. He still had guests to be attended there, and Bafur had made it clear that he and his fellows required 'no coddling', as he put it. Eomer chuckled. Certainly it was never dull when there were dwarves in residence.

Just as he was making for the dining area, a messenger came from Gondor. With most of his Gondorian friends in the Mark, he was not sure who would be sending him a letter, and he broke the seal on it as he sat down at the table. An instant later, his eyebrows arched in surprise.

 _My Lord King,_

 _This is just a brief note to let you know that I have returned to my home and am now doing as I promised – seeking whatever supplies are available that might be of use to your people. Amrothos rides with me as escort, and having finished gathering what I could around Pelargir, I am sending on a small shipment before we continue to canvas the rest of the Belfalas area. The goods will travel to Mundburg by ship and then overland to Edoras. With winter drawing ever closer, I did not want to delay. Rest assured, more will follow as soon as possible._

 _I cannot say for certain how long it will take for the shipment to reach you, but I am hoping it will be there within a week of the courier's arrival with this letter._

 _I hope all is well with you. I am sorry I was not able to join you to honor Theoden King. I know what he meant to you and Eowyn._

 _My very kindest regards,_

 _Lothiriel_

Eomer set the letter on the table beside his plate, staring pensively at it. He had thought when the dwarves arrived, that would be the sum of her efforts – a major accomplishment, and not inexpensive as he had learned she had bought their supplies, wain and ponies, and in addition was seeing they were paid for their work. Now it was evident how mistaken he had been to underestimate her fervor.

"Good news?" Betersel asked as she directed servants in setting out the dinner dishes.

He sighed. "Yes, I suppose. Lothiriel has been securing supplies for us in the south. The first load should arrive within the week."

Betersel wore a satisfied smile. "Of course she would do that. Lothiriel is one of us."

Eomer frowned at his housekeeper. "First Ceorl and now you? She is not a lost puppy that we may adopt!"

The woman eyed him benignly. "No, she's not a puppy to be adopted." With a slight smirk, she departed, the servants trailing her from the room.

He loved and respected Betersel, but he really hated that look she sometimes gave him. The look that clearly said 'you will figure it out eventually'. When he was a boy, he had simply ignored it and gone on about his business. But since he became full grown, he did not like anything suggesting that he was missing something, an important detail.

Eomer fingered the letter, lost in his musings. After the funeral guests had mostly departed, he had found Meduseld to be strangely quiet and empty. And in particular he had noticed Lothiriel's absence. He found himself idly passing the room where she had stayed, or going out to the garden for no reason, but wanting, hoping to find her there as before. Aldburg was no different. Even with her very brief visit in this house, she had woven herself into its tapestry. In her absence, the place did not feel the same.

There was no shame in admitting that he missed her. She had been good company and offered many sound suggestions, not to mention her efforts on the garden and any other ways she had found to offer aid to his household and people. While her encounter with Glydged had been unpleasant, she had been understanding of his plight rather than reviling the man. He knew others would not be as compassionate.

It was entirely reasonable that he should miss such an affable guest in his house. Why did it feel…different. As though more was at play. He knew what Eothain would claim. No, he would not allow his thoughts to go there. The Mark was far from recovered. Frivolous notions must wait until it was more appropriate.

He reached for a platter, letting the activity push his troubling ruminations away, at least for the present. He suspected they would ambush him again.

xx

His return to Edoras did not improve things. Like it or not, Lothiriel's name came up far too often for his peace of mind.

No one had found the presence of the dwarves particularly strange, until Aragorn returned. He had heard that the dwarves had come, but kept silent until he and Eomer were alone.

"Gimli did not mention his kinsmen were due in the Mark just yet. Indeed, he has not particularly spoken of them other than to remark on how they would wish to see the Glittering Caves. How came you by these workers, Eomer?"

The question was too direct to avoid answering honestly. "Lothiriel sent them. They were among those who were working on the great gate. She persuaded them to build shelters in the Mark, for man and beast." He shrugged. "I cannot object to their being here. I never dared hope to get so many structures in place this quickly."

"Odd that Imrahil has not mentioned his daughter's part in it. Until now, he has demonstrated great pride in his childrens' accomplishments."

"I…did not tell him it was Lothiriel's doing. I was not certain how he would feel about her activities, but she has been determined to act on our behalf. I cannot bring myself to discourage her efforts. I am sure her brothers will keep an eye on her activities, to ensure her safety."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed thoughtfully. He smiled. "Perhaps I need to make the lady my ambassador to the Mark, seeing as she has this keen an interest in your land!"

Eomer laughed. "I rather doubt Imrahil would agree to that. Generosity for those in need he might consider worthy of his daughter, but I do not think he envisions her taking on a political position. You have already claimed him. Leave the rest of his family be!"

Aragorn joined him in laughter, but it did strike him as curious that Eomer had kept silent as to the source of the dwarves' presence here. Eomer had not spoken of any attraction to the lady, but Aragorn had gotten the distinct impression Eothain believed there were feelings being held in check. As to whether the lady felt similarly, he did not know; he had been little in her company. Was her singlemindedness truly only gratitude or compassion?

xxxxx

(Belfalas, 9 Aug 3019)

"Thiri? Why are we doing this? Aragorn and Faramir are already seeing to sending assistance to the Eorlingas. We do not—"

"It _is_ necessary, Amrothos. You did not see the devastation of their land as I did, or hear of what I did not see for myself. I am sure the King and our cousin will be quite generous, but there are goods we have in the south that will also be of great benefit. Goods not readily found in the north, or which are more abundant here. I _must_ do this, do you not see that?"

She nudged her horse forward, and he stared pensively at her back before signaling their company onward. He suspected, and Erchirion agreed, that her efforts had more to do with Eomer than with the whole of Rohan. Whatever she was trying to prove to him or herself, it was clear she was not going to stop until she was satisfied.

He had hoped that the visit to Pelargir would suffice, but she had insisted on taking the road to Linhir when she was finished in the port city. It was a long ride – several days at least, with their stops in Lebennin. Perhaps that would curb her enthusiasm. The ride by ship from Dol Amroth to Pelargir had been easy and comfortable. This journey would be far less enjoyable. Once he pointed out that it would only get worse the farther they traveled into the more remote areas, she could probably be persuaded to rethink her plans.

Four days later, Amrothos was forced to admit defeat. He had forgotten the long ride from Rohan back to Minas Tirith that his sister had made. Apparently the experience had better prepared her for this venture than he anticipated. She was unwearying in her efforts. Further, he was surprised that none could resist her pleas. Some were reluctant when first approached, but within minutes she had convinced them they had a portion to share, however modest it might be.

"Where did you learn to be that persuasive in bargaining?" he asked, as they were riding from yet another town that had capitulated.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "From Father, of course."

"Father? Father has been teaching you to negotiate with people?"

She paused. "Not teaching, exactly, but surely all of you have gleaned from his example also, have you not? Father's teaching is in his behavior. I have seen him sway even the most stubborn to do his bidding." She grinned teasingly. "If you have not learned it, then perhaps I pay better attention than do you!"

He made a face at her, but she had already turned her attention to the road to the next town. With a sigh, he resigned himself that he was not going to be returning to Dol Amroth soon.

Once she finished around Linhir, they pressed on toward Ethring and worked their way through the Ringlo Vale, then on to Calembel. Amrothos spied his sister gazing toward the mountains to the north, and suspected it was her intent to continue on all the way to the Blackroot Vale.

"Thiri, I have been asking around. Those with goods in the Blackroot region travel either here or Edhellond to sell or trade them. We are nearly to September and wintry weather comes earlier this high up in the mountains. It is not wise for us to go any farther north. Two days from now, most of those who will trade should arrive here for the final trip before weather interferes. If we wait here, you can approach them without our having to travel all that way."

She looked again toward the mountains, her gaze wistful, but finally sighed and nodded. "That is probably wise, and we will need to be working our way back toward home to make sure the supplies are sent on into Rohan as soon as possible. Weather might also be a hindrance in that regard, and I do not want to go to this effort and then not be able to deliver as promised." Reluctantly she turned away from the mountain and didn't look back. She would have liked the path under the mountain to provide a shorter route, but she already knew from Ceorl it wasn't a realistic option.

Once the traders from Blackroot were come and gone, they turned south and followed the road alongside the River Ringlo. They stopped at any sizable settlements they came across along the way and then proceeded on to Edhellond.

When the Elves had inhabited that town, most of the Men had left and gone off to live elsewhere. After the last of the Elves sailed, Men gradually drifted back, unwilling to let the abandoned buildings go to waste. They had re-established a small shipping port there, making it easier to transport goods between Anfalas and the northern fiefs, and the larger port at Dol Amroth.

Before continuing on home, the siblings briefly went over into Anfalas to visit with Lord Golasgil and secure what they could there. A number of small villages were in that region, but they were not of any significant size. Lord Golasgil was pleased to have visitors, though, for not many ventured that far west on a regular basis, and rarely were they of the nobility.

"Come in, come in!" Lord Golasgil welcomed from behind his doorman. "And what brings Dol Amroth to my humble fiefdom?" As he spoke, he was leading them to a nearby sitting room that afforded a good view across his yard to the sea. He signaled a waiting servant to bring refreshments as they were seating themselves.

Being the elder, Amrothos decided it fell to him to broach the subject of their visit. "My sister and I come this day on behalf of our friends of Rohan, my lord. I do not know what you heard while you were at Minas Tirith, but their land was even more devastated than our own. Sauron had managed to seduce the wizard Saruman into doing his bidding, so they suffered attacks on two fronts. Saruman sought to utterly destroy them." He glanced toward his sister as a sign she should take up from there.

"I spent a couple of months in Rohan recently," Lothiriel told him, "and saw the devastation for myself. They struggle mightily to prepare for the coming winter, and I have been given permission of Eomer King to seek aid in the south, to send their way. As you say, yours is a small fiefdom, and most of your people are herdsmen or fishermen who live in comfortable if somewhat humble circumstances. Certainly I do not wish to help the Eorlingas at their expense, but if there is any surplus that could be spared it would certainly be appreciated."

Her face glowed with earnestness and entreaty, and Amrothos marveled again at her persuasiveness. It was evident Lord Golasgil was eager to give her whatever she asked of him.

"Oh, my dear, I should be glad of the chance to help. I cannot tell you how welcome was the sight of their approach at dawn when it seemed all was lost! Many of my people are alive today due to that timely arrival. You noted correctly that my people are not soldiers, though they are brave and willing to defend our land at need. They certainly were not equal to the challenge of what we faced on the Pelennor." He paused, thinking, then told them, "Please, stay the night and I will talk with my steward. He can send word to the homes and villages asking for any possible donations, and I will add what I can from my own property."

Amrothos suspected Lothiriel might have been inclined to move on, but the offer of a comfortable bed after all the rough travel swayed her to agree to the overnight stop. Certainly he was glad of a proper meal and a generous host was more than welcome to him.

It turned out they stayed two nights, discussing what goods might be available, allowing Lothiriel to gain an idea of what she still needed to procure. Golasgil insisted on hosting them in his home for the duration of their stay, and would have kept them longer if they could have been convinced to linger. When it was clear they would leave, he promised Lothiriel he would coordinate sending on the supplies that were raised as soon as they were gathered.

And at long last they were on the road back to Dol Amroth. Amrothos would have been more than willing to sail the distance, but the ships out of the Edhellond harbor were not of a size to transport horses. Even if they were, Lothiriel remained determined to canvas the villages along the way and would not hear of it. He was looking forward to this venture of hers ending. When they finally got home, they would have been travelling nearly two months.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	20. Resilience 20

**A/N: Only 5 chapters left, including this one, but much still needs to happen/be resolved.**

 **Chapter 20** (Dol Amroth, 24 Sep 3019)

Lothiriel did not make it known to Amrothos, but she was glad to see Tirith Aear in the distance. She didn't regret her effort at all, but it was tiring. The trip between Edoras and Minas Tirith had felt incredibly long, and that was short compared to this. If she had let Amrothos and Erchirion know the full extent of her plans at the outset, she knew they never would have agreed to it. That she chose Pelargir as her first stop was misleading – purposely. She wanted to get Amrothos well along on the road before he realized just what her request entailed. And, in that, she had been wise. He argued, complained and argued even more, but at length he had given in to her, as she knew he would. Sometimes it just didn't pay to fight fair if you wanted to be sure you got your way, and that was especially true with her family.

They were home less than a day when Elphir told them at supper, "I have had a letter from Father. He should be on a boat headed south as we speak, and expects to arrive on the twenty-sixth. It will be good to see him at long last."

His siblings murmured agreement. "Did he mention Theoden King's funeral in his letter?" Lothiriel asked.

Elphir shook his head. "The letter was brief, more a note actually. I expect he will share all the news from his travels after he arrives."

The answer was disappointing. Lothiriel had hoped for more word from Rohan and how things had gone. Perhaps a letter to Eowyn was her best option, and maybe to Faramir also. Her cousin could always be depended on to give a good accounting, filled with all the details others tended to gloss over.

Imrahil's three youngest children awaited his debarking from the ship together the next day. Though Elphir had wanted to come, a meeting was already scheduled and he decided it best not to cancel. His brothers and sister would make for a nice welcome home and he could greet his father soon enough. Besides, this meeting would give him a final look at the state of their fiefdom, to be used when he reported to Imrahil where they stood after his long absence.

Finally the gangway was lowered, and Imrahil was the first to leave the ship at the courtesy of the captain. The brothers were not surprised that his eyes fixed first on Lothiriel.

"I had rather expected to find you awaiting my return from Rohan at Minas Tirith, dearest," Imrahil remarked to his daughter as he was turning to hug his sons.

Amrothos and Erchirion met one another's gaze; Lothiriel had never said why she chose to depart the White City so abruptly, and they had been hesitant to ask about it.

She paused only an instant before replying, "I was eager to get home once more, Father. But I am pleased the King has allowed you to come home as well. We were beginning to fear he intended to keep you at Minas Tirith forever."

Imrahil chuckled. "No, though he has tried. He is just eager for counsel in his early days of rule. Re-establishing the Reunited Kingdom is no small task, especially after many long years without a king. I want to provide whatever assistance I can, but I will always prefer my place by the sea above all others."

Erchirion gave a silent sigh. Clearly their sister intended to be no more forthcoming with their father than she had been with her brothers. She had easily diverted the conversation away from her. Perhaps eventually she would be ready to reveal her thinking.

"And what have you been doing with yourself since your return? You have been home quite a while now."

That question was going to be more difficult for Lothiriel to dodge, but she managed it without giving anything away. "As I promised Eomer King, I have been seeking aid for his people. Amrothos and I are just returned from travelling the nearby regions to find whatever was available. We only arrived a couple of days ago ourselves."

"Indeed. Well, that is very good of you, dearest. Certainly they need the aid, and I am sure it will ease Eomer's worries to have it. If you require my help, be sure to let me know. I am happy to do whatever possible for our friends."

"Thank you, Father."

Amrothos' lips pursed, but he refrained from commenting, rather to Erchirion's surprise. Truth was, Lothiriel was changed since her return, and they were not entirely sure how to treat her. In many ways, though all felt just as it had been before, there was…something. She did not speak of it, but it was there. Erchirion supposed she needed time to readjust to her old life. With all that had happened in the past months, it should not be surprising that she was a little out of kilter.

xxxxx

(Edoras, early October)

As Eomer pulled the tunic over his head, his finger snagged. Tugging it back off to examine more closely, he found it had come undone along the seam. Lothiriel could have that fixed for him in a trice, as she had done before…but Lothiriel was not here. Strange that he had even thought of her first. Meduseld did not lack for sewing women to tend to his mending. That Lothiriel had taken on the task while here was only out of her desire to have an occupation that would allow her to be of service. He tossed the tunic toward the bed with undue irritation, and pulled out another one, refusing to contemplate the matter further.

Incidents like this were occuring far too often for his peace of mind. Lothiriel was _not_ here, nor was she going to be in the near future, if ever again, and he had more important concerns. No doubt Eowyn's wedding, which she could not cease mentioning on a daily basis, preyed upon his mind. Spring would be here all too soon and she would be gone. It would be lonely without any kin at Edoras, but that was life. In due course he would turn his attention to marriage, but winter was on their doorstep and preparations were not complete. He must stop this nonsense.

As he moved toward the door, he glanced back, his eyes falling on the crumpled tunic. Despite his determination, he suspected he would have more troubling thoughts beset him. Just what he needed – additional aggravations.

xxxxx

(Dol Amroth, early October)

"Where is your sister," Imrahil asked his two sons, as he sat down to the midday meal.

They looked at one another, and then Amrothos sighed tiredly. "Where she always is these days, Father – procuring aid for the Rohirrim."

Imrahil had started dishing his plate, but paused to gaze at his youngest. "Still? I assumed that was finished when you returned—"

Amrothos shrugged. "Not in her mind. That trip and the supplies we acquired to be sent north did not satisfy her. In truth, I am not entirely sure what it will take to do that."

Imrahil pensively set down the platter he was holding, silently staring at his plate. At length, he said, "Erchirion—"

"I know, I know – you wish me to speak with her. Because she listens to me. Supposedly."

His father smiled. "I am sorry to lay this charge on you, but you _are_ best suited. Whether you believe it or not, she talks more freely with you, and is more apt to heed your counsel. Why that is, exactly, I do not know, but as it is true, I will make use of it when necessary. Please."

Despite dragging his feet, Erchirion found it did not take long to reach his sister's room. He took a deep breath and knocked at the door. It moved forward at his touch, not having been closed completely.

"Come in," Lothiriel called.

His sister didn't bother to look up from what she was doing at her desk when he entered. For a moment, he just stared at her back, then finally went to sit on the dressing bench that he drew near. Still she did not look up, continuing to write. Perhaps that would make it easier to find the right words.

"Thiri…Father has—"

"Sent you to talk to me again?" A smile played at her mouth, though she didn't stop to look at him.

"Well, yes. For whatever reason, he thinks you listen to me when you ignore what others might say to you."

Now she did pause, twirling the pen thoughtfully in her fingers before admitting, "Yes, I suppose there is truth in that. What has he sent you to convince me of now?" She turned to eye him pointedly.

Erchirion grinned. He had sometimes wondered if she realized what their father was doing – now he had his answer. He found it difficult to form his words with her eyeing him so astutely. He rose and moved to the window, saying over his shoulder, "Father is disturbed by your obsessive attention to obtaining supplies and necessities to send on to Rohan. While your compassion is admirable, it is becoming…somewhat excessive."

He turned to look at her, wanting to assess her reaction to his words. Her jaw had tightened, though he did not think it was from anger…emotion, then?

She rose to face him, taking a deep breath. "In Minas Tirith, where they know of my abduction, I am all but reviled. They may not do it openly, but I see – and even overhear – them whispering when they see me coming. At best, there is pity, but most of them are determined to make me feel as though _I_ had done wrong, as though I should be ashamed of what happened. No amount of insistence that I was not harmed softens their view in the slightest. But in Edoras, and even at Aldburg, many knew how I came to be there. Those are far smaller places and the sight of bandits under lock and key was sure to raise questions. Do you know, _none_ of them treated me as though I was to blame. All were sympathetic to what I suffered. They put their arms around me and reassured me I was safe. Strangers offered me welcome and kindness and protection while my own kinsmen want only to gossip and treat me as a defiled creature to be avoided. So, no, Erchirion, I will not slack off in my efforts on Rohan's behalf. How can I repay such generosity and warmth of spirit by giving only a half-hearted attempt at sending them aid? I will not do it. And you may tell _that_ to Father. He need not send you again to make another attempt at persuasion – I assure you that your words will fall on deaf ears regardless of how often you return and speak them!"

After this speech, she almost visibly shrunk in upon herself, apparently having been carried along by the strong emotion coursing in her. Erchirion merely stared at her for several interminable seconds, but all he could think was how very wrong he was to be here, having this discussion. If anything, he should be doing all in his power to assist her. He had not been there for his sister this past summer when she had needed it, but their new northern friends had filled that void for him. He surged forward and enfolded her in his arms, holding her for a good long while in silence.

"I am sorry," he said at length. "I did not realize what you suffered. We heard idle talk at Minas Tirith, but foolishly assumed it would die down eventually. All of us should have known it would not, and understood why you suddenly fled south when usually you enjoy the City. Forgive me."

She pulled back to look up at him, her eyes damp. "There is nothing to forgive. My dear family sees what they want to see – that I am well and happy. But my life has been changed, Erchirion. I can never again be that innocent girl I was less than a year ago. The truth is, even I was naïve enough to think that others would take my word for what happened or did not happen, and that they would also have compassion for me as the Eorlingas did. And there are those who did. But Minas Tirith's nobility loves a scandal, and I quite generously provided them with a very great one."

xxxxx

In many ways, Lothiriel was glad to have spoken freely of her feelings about the task she had set herself. She knew Erchirion would pass it on to her father and brothers, and after that they kept whatever reservations they may have had to themselves. But, more importantly, they were more apt to assist her rather than simply giving her those long-suffering looks at her single-mindedness.

The truth was, she was very pleased with the outcome of her labors. She had been able to find out from Faramir what they would be sending officially on behalf of Gondor, and she had focused her attention on filling in whatever gaps she saw. She had managed the small shipment in September, and a larger load would be ready before the end of October. By then, she knew the weather would begin to play against her. Even so, she'd had seamstresses working on durable, warm clothing for the past month and if not included with the supplies in October, she would be sure it went soon after. She had also paid three candlers to turn out as many candles as they could before then.

Eowyn had written several letters, keeping her apprised of when shipments arrived and how the Mark was faring. Already they were beginning to see rain and colder temperatures, but the dwarves had not disappointed her. She had been surprised to receive a letter from Bafur also, detailing the work they had done. By the time she received word, he told her, they would be at the Hornburg, expecting to winter there and eager to see Gimli's cave with their own eyes.

That had given her a chuckle. She wondered if Eomer knew that name had been given it by his friend's kinsmen. But, even if he did, she could not imagine that he minded.

She hadn't expected to hear from Eomer personally. Hoped, perhaps, but not expected it. And he had only written the once, clearly not comfortable in performing the task. The note was brief, little more than a thank you, but she knew him well enough to know how hard it would have been for him to write it.

 _Lady Lothiriel,_

 _I must thank you for the goods you have sent to us and, in particular, for the assistance of the dwarves. Not only are they hard workers, but they are quick and very skilled, as well as lively company._

 _The Mark can never thank you enough for all you have done._

 _With sincerest appreciation,_

 _Eomer King_

Stiff, formal. She could envision him agonizing over it, what to say, hating the need to say it. If she could have spared him that, she would have, but she doubted his sister would allow him to be remiss in the duty. Hopefully the single missive would satisfy Eowyn. She found it no easier to receive the letter than she was certain he had been in sending it. Not that she doubted his sincerity, but… She remembered what Ceorl had told her, that the Eorlingas found it difficult to accept aid of outsiders, and while she did not like to think of herself in that way, she did not think her brief visit to the Mark qualified her for more. That was not an altogether satisfying admission.

xxxxx

(Dol Amroth, late October)

"Eomer ought to be well pleased with what you have accomplished," Erchirion commented, as they watched the ship being loaded with supplies.

Lothiriel turned to look at him, an eyebrow arched. She could not miss the twinkle in his eyes and guess at his meaning. Her lips tightened and she looked away. "That ship has sailed, Erchirion. But I am sure he will make good use of the supplies I am sending to ease their struggles."

"Lothiriel –"

"Stop. I know what you would say. Perhaps if none of this had happened, eventually there might have been more between us than friendship. But I greatly overstepped, and I proved to both Eomer and myself that I am not cut from a queenly cloth. He would do well to seek a wife elsewhere, when the Mark is better recovered and he has leisure for such pursuits. We parted in Minas Tirith with a tentative truce in place. Hopefully, my efforts will be sufficient to fully gain his forgiveness of my folly."

One part of that he could not entirely refute. Lothiriel _was_ very young to take on queenly duties, it was true. But he thought she underestimated the attraction a man could feel for a woman. Nor did she realize how strong attraction could override other rational choices when the man was making decisions. Besides, perhaps she was not presently ready to be a queen, but she was well on that road already, whether she knew it or not. She lacked only experience and more maturity before she would be eminently suitable for the job.

Still, his sister could be stubborn when she got a notion into her head. She would not be convinced unless – until, for he felt sure it would happen – Eomer pursued a courtship. He had seen them together, before this dispute arose. There was no mistaking the easiness, even affection, between them. He had never seen either of them be so comfortable with anyone else as they were with each other. And he had seen Eothain watching them also, grinning. The big man clearly agreed with Erchirion's view on the matter. Now it only fell to the two in question to recognize that truth, and act on it.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	21. Resilience 21

**Chapter 21**

(Dol Amroth, December, 3019)

Lothiriel blinked. She wondered just how long she had been sitting there, staring unseeingly at herself in the mirror. It wasn't that she was engrossed in looking at her image. No, her reflections were turned farther afield. Today was just the most recent instance, but for the past couple of months, Erchirion had been dropping suggestions, offering what he deemed evidence of Eomer's interest in her. Regardless of how often she disputed his words, or scowled reprovingly at him, he had persisted. He seemed to believe that if he kept Eomer in her thoughts that all would be well.

At least in one respect his efforts were productive. His frequent mention of the northern king did little to help Lothiriel put Eomer from her mind. Even worse, she knew that she wished her brother was right, that she had not ruined all chance of…

No, she must not think of that. Regardless of Erchirion's opinion, she saw it more clearly. She was sure that Eomer liked her, and she even expected that he had actually forgiven her, but that was not the basis of romance. That was not sufficient to send a man into courtship. In other circumstances, the relationship might have developed differently between them, but now that could never be. And what was most discouraging of all was that she knew in the deepest recesses of her heart how much she regretted the way things had happened. If only she had asked permission before acting. Erchirion was right about that, too. She had been raised in a household of men, and should have realized it would bruise Eomer's pride to usurp his authority. She had allowed her zeal to blind her, and now she must live with the consequences.

Were Eowyn not a dear friend, and Faramir a beloved cousin, she might have sought a way to avoid going to Minas Tirith for their wedding in the spring. But that was cowardly, and she could not hurt others in order to avoid further hurt to her own feelings. She would make sure a shipment was ready to go back to Edoras with the wedding guests, and inquire if Eomer wished for her to seek additional assistance for a while longer. If she persisted past what he perceived as Rohan's need, she would again be on dangerous ground, potentially offending him with charity.

She sighed and laid aside the brush she had been twisting in her hands. Eomer was not the only reason she would have liked to avoid the White City, but it could not be helped. She was Prince Imrahil's daughter, and she had responsibilities.

The Mettare celebrations this year would be bittersweet for her. They had won the War and for the most part peace filled Gondor and Rohan. And her family had all been returned to her safe and sound. She had never dared to hope she would be that fortunate. But there was also the regret of how her life had changed with that abduction, and even more for the disarray of her personal life. Her father would have let her marry for love, she felt sure, and Denethor could no longer try to take a hand in the decision, but now that she knew her heart, she also realized her only choices would be to never marry, or to settle for someone else. That put a pall on all that she did, as heavy as any laid there by Mordor the past few years.

With winter full upon them, it had slowed her progress in procuring and shipping supplies northward, but she continued collecting clothing and candles. Those could be placed on packhorses to be transported to the Mark. Her work on this endeavor seemed all that kept her sane. Inside, she felt as scattered as the clouds on a windy day, and she did not know what could be done to overcome it.

xxxxx

(Edoras, mid-January, 3020 III)

Eomer had never liked being confined indoors. As king, that was where he spent most of his days anymore. Even in the coldest, wettest weather previous to the War, he had ventured forth, if only to visit Firefoot in the stables. He could not bear this idleness!

Restlessly he paced his study. He had almost gone to the great hall, where there was more room to move, but he did not want his agitation to be noticed. And there were far too many in the hall with perceptive eyes.

Abruptly, he strode for the door. The walls were closing in on him – he needed air and knew where he could get it unobserved. It was a quick trip down the halls, and he let the door bang open as he passed through onto the back terrace. His breath fogged in the cold air. Probably he should have worn a cloak, but he had no intention of returning for one. The bracing chill was invigorating.

His eyes flicked over the landscape before him. They had been fortunate that snows this season were scarce. At present the ground and plants were only lightly dusted. Yet the garden looked as frozen and dormant as his insides felt, as though the sun had disappeared forever. Why would that be? They were weathering the winter far better than he had dared to hope they would. Could he no longer be pleased with small victories?

He rubbed his face with both hands. Would there ever come a reprieve? All around him advisers and friends offered their versions of solutions, but often he wondered if they sought to help him or themselves. He let out a long sigh. Certainly some of them had his interests at heart, though he did not always approve of their methods or agree with their reasoning. Eothain! His friend thought he knew Eomer so well, and in many respects that was true, but sometimes his solutions were overly simple. A king could not base his decisions on mere personal desire alone, not if he wanted to properly care for his people.

A shiver unexpectedly shook him. Even he was not entirely immune to the cold. With great reluctance, he reached for the latch and reentered his cage. Cage? He stopped short. Was this how Eowyn had felt? Locked in Meduseld, bound to serve no matter the personal cost? How could he never have seen that, or understood? Pensively he continued on to his study. Today was a day of revelations, and not entirely pleasing ones at that.

xxxxx

As Imrahil exited his study, his gaze was caught by his daughter, slowly climbing the stairs. Her cloak and head scarf told him she had been outside. Despite the cold and the threatening sky, she apparently had ventured forth. If she was aware of him, she gave no indication and he watched until she was gone from sight. His steward had stood patiently at hand, and at length Imrahil turned to him, instructing, "Balaras, would you have someone see if they can locate my sons? I would speak with them."

"Yes, my lord." Balaras was quickly gone, and with a sigh, Imrahil moved on to the library, the usual family meeting place.

He was surprised at how quickly his sons arrived; they had been more at hand than he realized. Pouring himself a glass of wine, he took a seat in his favorite chair by the fireplace. Silently, his sons followed his example and settled nearby, then waited for him to speak.

No point dancing around the problem. "I am worried about Lothiriel." He had been watching the wine he was swirling in his glass, but now looked up and eyed each of them in turn, encouraging a response.

Erchirion was not particularly surprised when everyone looked for him to answer. He had never fully shared what Lothiriel told him last autumn, but perhaps they needed to know. "Even…" He tried again. "Despite being returned to us physically unharmed after her abduction, Thiri was not unaffected. She has…struggled more than you know." Eomer had told him of the lone bandit who very nearly succeeded in a second attack on her, but he had never mentioned it. Now it seemed best that all be told. Perhaps then something could be done. His words left them stunned into silence and looking uneasily at one another.

"Not only did she suffer that additional ordeal, but the gossipmongers of Minas Tirith stirred the flames of public interest, whispering suggestions of more than had been admitted, and making her feel tainted. That was why she fled the City so abruptly last year. I am sure she was eager to be home again, but that was not what prompted her departure."

"Why did you never speak of this before?" Amrothos' tone was accusatory.

"Because," he replied patiently, "I did not think she wanted…well-meaning expressions of concern. She did not seek to hide it, but neither was she desirous of making it widely known, even within the family."

"And this is what hangs heavy on her shoulders?" Elphir asked. "Somehow that is not what I have seen."

"No. She struggles with that somewhat, still, I am sure, but that is not the whole of it. Though she does not admit to it, and is adamant all chance of it lost, I think she and Eomer developed feelings for one another. And from what I saw, I was not the only one of that opinion. But neither of them will acknowledge those feelings, if they do exist, and Lothiriel is convinced any possibility of a union was lost with her misstep at Minas Tirith. I am not sure of that, but I do not know what we could say that would persuade her otherwise. Only if Eomer does have similar feelings and chooses to act upon them…"

Imrahil sighed again, rubbing his head. "My poor girl. To go through that nightmare and now to endure loving someone she does not think requites that love. How could I have been this blind?"

"We were all blind, Father," Elphir soothed.

Erchirion nodded in agreement. "Thiri even said as much. In our love for her, we saw what we wanted to see: no ill effects of recent events. We wanted to believe she was safe and happy as before, and downplayed any twinges of concern we might have felt had we paid more attention."

"Well, then, what can we do?" Amrothos was never one for beating around the bush.

"I am not sure there is anything _we_ can do. Only time will heal the scars of her abduction, and greater caution for her safety. As to Eomer, that must come from him, and I do not think he would respond well to any mention of it. The woes of his people overshadow all else just now. Perhaps time alone will resolve that as well. However, knowing Eothain, I do not think Eomer will escape without encouragement to act."

Imrahil had hoped for a firmer course of action that could be taken, but Erchirion's words made sense. It would be no easier to remove the scars of Lothiriel's abduction from her mind than it was to remove them from the minds of men who had seen battle. But he could pay more attention, and he could help her more in her efforts on behalf of the Eorlingas. He would not have his daughter or Eomer think only she was grateful for her safe recovery.

xx

If Lothiriel was surprised by the sudden fervent aid of her family in her endeavors, she did not voice it. Once or twice Erchirion glimpsed her eyeing various of them pensively, her countenance somewhat puzzled, but she must have been satisfied with whatever conclusions she reached. Likely she had expected it last October when she unburdened herself to him, and did not realize he had only given the family a cursory explanation of why her efforts should continue.

With all the effort she had spent on the endeavor heretofore, he wondered if perhaps she had mixed emotions about their help. Before, it had been solely her undertaking, but not anymore. He was sure she was pleased for any additional aid their participation provided, and did not mind the assistance in getting the items ready and shipped, but maybe she considered it less personal for others to help her. He hoped that was not true – he did not wish to deprive her of the privilege of helping.

Women in Gondor's society were limited in what activities they could pursue, and this venture had done her credit as the daughter of Dol Amroth's prince. There were too few opportunities for her or any other woman, and after comments she made, he knew she felt that, especially after viewing the freedoms of Rohan.

He grinned ruefully to himself. If she and Eomer would just wake up to the truth of their feelings, that could easily be remedied!

xxxxx

(Edoras, early Feb 3020 III)

Eomer shifted his position and glanced toward the window. No sign of light yet, but then he had known there wouldn't be. He had never had trouble sleeping…until now. However tired he was when he turned in at night, he was wide awake before dawn.

That same dream, varying only slightly if at all, came to him most nights now. Darkness, hands reaching for him from all directions, disembodied voices calling for help. He tried to do as they bid, to find who needed aid and provide it, but he was mired in place as though knee deep in heavy mud. He wanted to go to them. He wanted to give them what they needed. But his efforts were in vain. No amount of struggling broke him free from the restraints ensnaring him, and so he failed them and awoke with guilt permeating the very air around him.

He would have liked to blame it on concerns of the kingdom, but the truth was, they had managed remarkably well. No, he knew within himself that was not the cause. Thanks to the generosity of Gondor, and the unstinting efforts of Lothiriel, their needs had been met. The dwarves she'd sent had gotten structures built with astonishing speed. They might not have been used to building those sorts of things, but they learned quickly the best way to do it.

The persistent dreams he had been having for more than a month now only revealed his own uncertainty with the tremendous task laid before him. Wintering well was good, to be sure, but there was more that needed doing. Worse, though, was that the dreams had taken a turn about a week ago. One of the voices stood out in the darkness and he knew who it belonged to even if he wanted to ignore the implications. During his waking hours, he was able to marshal his attention and keep it turned to the troubles that surrounded him. It was the night that betrayed him. She had been gone for months now – more than half a year. Yet the dreams grew stronger, not lessened by their being apart. He had never dreamt of her when she was here, under his roof. Why was now different?

For that matter, why would Lothiriel need his help? She was safely with her family, just as he promised. His obligation to her was ended long ago. In all honesty, he probably could lay partial blame for thoughts of Lothiriel on those around him. They all seemed to think they saw interest that he did not, as if they knew his heart better than he himself did.

No, he did not need them pointing out her fine qualities. He did not need to be reminded that he was in want of a queen and she was more than suitable. He did _not_ need them encouraging him to follow his heart, when he knew it was not right to allow the distraction. He certainly did not need them making it harder for him to do what he must rather than what he wanted to do.

During the long cold months of winter, he had begrudgingly admitted, if only to himself, that he had feelings for Lothiriel, probably even loved her. It had come on so gradually that he had not noticed, and scoffed at others playing matchmaker. Maybe part of it was loneliness, made all the worse by the knowledge that Eowyn would be gone soon and his house would be emptier than ever without any of his family around him.

But while he would have wished to claim it was mere loneliness causing his unrest, were that true he would have expected to be looking around for companionship with someone at hand. Instead, none of them could hold his interest beyond the length of a conversation. Once he parted from them, they evaporated from his mind like water in a puddle under a hot sun.

Thinking of her was torment, but it was also the only comfort. Eowyn's nuptials drew nearer, and he would see her again then. Would his feelings be sustained once they were face to face once more? He could hope it was so, but he did not feel assured of it. The circumstances of Lothiriel's sojourn in Rohan had helped to form the strong tie between them, but was it more or different from her bond with Eothain and Ceorl? Or was he just another dear friend and rescuer to her?

With a groan, he sat up, raking his hands through his hair. His ponderings whirled in this circular pattern every morning about now, like a dog chasing its tail, but no answers presented themselves. He did not care to admit it, but he was discouraged and lonely. Eowyn would be leaving, and Eothain… His friend persisted with the opinion that Lothiriel was the answer to all his ills. Perhaps she was, or would be eventually, but if he could not stand as king of the Riddermark without her, what good was he? Theoden had not needed a queen in order to rule, indeed had done well for many long years after his wife's death. A queen would be pleasing, even desirable, but it would not be a simple solution to every concern.

Despite everyone's insistence that she had feelings for him, Eomer had never discerned anything in Lothiriel's behavior beyond friendship. She undoubtedly liked him, and it was said that in Gondor that was more than sufficient for marriage. But it was not sufficient for him. He would claim no wife without love. Whatever anyone else said, he deemed that essential. His parents had it, Eowyn had it, even Aragorn did after waiting so very long. Eomer was determined to have it also.

He gave a frustrated growl. He was failing in everything – caring for his people, rebuilding his land, finding a wife. He was even failing Theoden. Surely Eomer fell far short of what his uncle would have hoped for in a successor.

He had learned that sleep was gone for the rest of the night, when his mind rehashed over every last detail of every challenge in his life, and rose to stoke the fire. If he worked for a while, there was the chance he would be weary enough to take an hour's nap just before breakfast. If he was lucky.

xxxxx

(Dol Amroth, March 3020)

There was no turning back now. The ship had eased away from the dock and was slowly turning into open water. Lothiriel watched Tirith Aear receding from them, not truly seeing it. Within a week she would see him again. Truth was, she did not know what to expect. They had parted on friendly terms, certainly, but they had lost the warmth and cordiality that had existed between them before. She did not know if that could ever be fully recovered. At least Eomer was not a man of grudging temperament, but lack of bad feelings was not the same as an abundance of good feelings. She was sure she had slipped greatly in his estimation, ground lost that could never be recovered fully. And that knowledge hurt. She had learned painful lessons before in her life, but none as bitter as this.

With a sigh, she turned away from the view and headed for her cabin. She had rehashed the situation endlessly the past couple of months. Doing so again would not provide any better answers than before. For the duration of this visit to the City, she must put her attention on Faramir and Eowyn's wedding, and their joy. It was selfish to think only of herself right now.

xxxxx

(On the road to Minas Tirith for Eowyn's wedding, Mar 3020)

Eothain watched Eomer from the corner of his eye. Something was different. He had noticed the tiredness – the tiredness Eomer did not wish to discuss, merely claiming he had problems of the kingdom on his mind that sometimes interrupted his sleep. That was not the whole of it, he was sure. His friend had become increasingly restive after Yule. Partly it might be attributed to knowing Eowyn's coming nuptials would take her to a new home; Eothain would allow that, but there was more.

Now that their journey had begun, Eomer struck him as more distracted than ever before, and there was no indication that Eowyn was the source of it. Could it be that his friend had finally come to his senses and recognized where his heart was fixed? Was his agitation due to the likelihood of seeing Lothiriel once more? Eothain certainly hoped it was so.

Eomer was struggling. Not as a king – he was acquitting himself well in that respect, just as Eothain had known he would. But the young king was adrift in his personal life. With Eowyn's departure, he would be bereft of any kin nearby. Friendships had necessarily been altered by his rise to the kingship. Certainly Eomer had not wanted that to happen, but he could not be socializing when caring for the Mark occupied the majority of his days and nights. He no longer had the ease of going off to fish or ride or do aught else whenever he chose. Duties as Third Marshal put restrictions on him, but not like this.

The man needed a wife. Not just a wife, but one who was also a friend. And that just happened to be Lothiriel, at least in Eothain's mind. Perhaps that realization was finally in Eomer's mind also, and maybe with winter's end he would act upon it. Please let him not be too stubborn to act on it! For everyone's sake!

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	22. Resilience 22

**NOTE: Reread my story 'Spoils of War'. Got to say, that is my absolute favorite of Lothiriel's entrances into Edoras to wed! To paraphrase Inigo Montoya: I did something right.**

 **Chapter 22**

(Minas Tirith, Mar 3020)

"Dear friend, it is very good to see you again!" Arwen was smiling warmly at her, and took both of Lothiriel's hands in her own before pressing a kiss to each of Lothiriel's cheeks.

She was all astonishment. They had met before, true, and were pleasant acquaintances, but Lothiriel would never have expected this sort of effusive welcome from the Queen. She glanced nervously around, and became aware of the numerous eyes riveted on them. All were avidly trying to hear their conversation. Oh. She dipped her head to hide the emotion welling in her. The elf-woman had been very astute when she met her in the Riddermark, and clearly that was unchanged. Others might backbite Lothiriel for what had happened to her, but the Queen obviously intended to demonstrate that she did not feel the same way. There was no greater sign of support that could have been offered. Everyone in attendance here would have seen it take place, and it would certainly be spoken of as eagerly as Lothiriel's situation had previously been discussed.

She smiled gratefully at Arwen, and in return received an almost imperceptible wink. "Come, sit beside me and tell me what you have been doing since last we met. I have heard that you found ways to occupy your hands of late that were quite productive. I am sure the Riddermark was well benefited by your efforts. My husband tells me he avoided seeking you as a member of his council, thinking your father would object, but now that your skills are known in organizing on a large scale, he is reconsidering." She lowered her voice and added, "While you were out doing, too many of his council were bickering over the details and accomplishing little."

Lothiriel dipped her head in embarrassment. "Thank you, but please do not make my efforts sound greater than they were. I did not intend to achieve any recognition for them, merely to offer whatever aid I could to dear friends."

Elessar had stepped to his wife's side and smiled warmly. "Dear friends, indeed, and I am grateful that you undertook such a massive effort. I think you perhaps had more freedom, and maybe even more persuasiveness, than any I could offer. But I would not have the Eorlingas suffer due to our neglect. You have my deepest appreciation and thanks."

By now Lothiriel's cheeks were flaming, and Arwen turned the conversation to spare her further embarrassment. Certainly this first visit to Court was proving unexpected. She had anticipated enduring it for as brief a period as possible, and then making her escape. She had not anticipated a warm welcome by the royal couple, nor the way she was approached by other nobles afterwards. In view of her relationship with the king and queen, they conveniently forgot any past scandals and were all eager to be on good terms with her once more.

At least that was a relief, that she would not have to endure the sniping as before. Now only Eomer's arrival stirred the churning of anxiety in her stomach, and made her wish herself leagues away.

xxxxx

Lothiriel had a reprieve of two days before the Eorlingas inevitably could be seen on the horizon. Not that it helped any, really. She was as on edge as if they were already here. All it did was put off what must eventually happen – she would see Eomer again. She tried to remember that this event also brought Eowyn, Eothain and possibly even Ceorl, but that did not ease her nerves.

She tried to occupy herself while waiting for them to reach the City by reading, but not unexpectedly could not concentrate and finally gave up the pretense. In the end, she simply stood at her window and waited. To her surprise, a knock came at her door, and at her summons, her maid stepped in to advise, "Lord Faramir to see you, mistress."

This was unusual; she followed the woman to the entry hall where her cousin waited. He smiled a welcome, and his eagerness for Eowyn's arrival was evident in his bearing. Normally, he was one of the calmest, most collected of men that she knew, but now he could not stand still, shifting from foot to foot as he spoke. "I am to ride out to meet the wedding party soon, Thiri. I thought you might like to join me."

Oh. Naturally he would think her eager to see her friends again. She should have anticipated this courtesy. Thinking quickly, she said, "That is very kind of you. But there will be enough distraction from your greeting of your lady. I will not add to it. I will see them at supper tonight, and that will be soon enough." She smiled disarmingly at him for good measure.

For an instant, he gazed pensively at her, but then finally just nodded. "As you wish." His words were accepting, but she did not think he truly believed her reason for declining. Her cousin was far too perceptive. Even so, he turned to go and she walked with him to the door, bidding him farewell.

She closed the door with a sigh. This was not going to be easy. It seemed she was the only one with any misgivings about seeing their friends from the North again, and she had no wish to explain why that was. She would need to rally her mood appropriate to the occasion or certainly questions would be asked. While her family knew of her mistake with Eomer last summer, they presumed the breach to be healed, and would not understand any reluctance on her part to be on friendly terms with him once again. Perhaps…perhaps after she had actually seen him it would be easier. Yes, she must hold to that hope.

Her family was to go to the Citadel to greet the wedding party when they arrived, and it would have been strange for her to be absent. When the horns blew indicating they had entered the City, she was ready to go and walked with her family there. King Elessar had not opened the arrival to anyone other than family members, keeping the gathered group relativelyfew in number. It was less than a quarter hour after they reached their destination that the Rohan contingent made their way through the tunnel in Faramir's company.

Lothiriel could only hope that she looked outwardly more serene than she felt; the instant she spotted Eomer her stomach lurched and all the air felt squeezed from her lungs. Obviously, her feelings had not dwindled in his absence as she intended. She forced herself to breathe again. When he glanced up from his conversation with Faramir, his gaze swept over the waiting group. Did it linger slightly longer on her, or was that merely wishful thinking? The latter, she told herself firmly. He does not think of me in that way, certainly not now.

There was a flurry of greetings, and Lothiriel tried to keep her focus on Eothain and Eowyn, though she knew acknowledging Eomer was unavoidable. Suddenly, Eowyn swept her into an embrace. "My dear friend, it is very good to see you once more."

That she could respond to with complete honesty. "And you!"

Eowyn eyed her closely and asked softly, "Are you well?"

"Of course!" she answered with false brightness. "All the more since this happy day has at last come when you will wed Faramir. I look forward to spending time with you once more now that you will be so near."

Eowyn's eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not pursue the subject further. Nevertheless, Lothiriel got the distinct impression she had not been convinced of Lothiriel's well-being.

And then there was no escaping greeting Eomer. She curtsied. "My lord, King Eomer. Welcome back to Gondor." Polite, formal. Let her training carry her.

Eomer's mouth tightened. Was that annoyance? Had she displeased him again already? But he just nodded and replied, "Thank you, Lady Lothiriel. I could not hope to come for a happier occasion."

The wedding party was to be hosted in the King's house, and once all the greetings were made, King Elessar guided his friends inside and sent them off with servants to their respective rooms. He had arranged a small gathering in his library, with refreshments and the chance to become reacquainted before the bustle of the wedding left everyone too hurried for casual pleasantries.

Eothain and Ceorl had come with Eomer, but only Eothain joined him in the King's house and at the gathering. Lothiriel dared not leave or draw untoward notice of herself. She took up a glass of wine to occupy her hands, and smilingly made the polite rounds of the company. Luckily, her father and brothers were eager to speak with Eomer, Faramir and Eowyn had eyes only for one another, and the King and Queen made sure to speak with each person. Eothain, normally quite sociable, knew he was in attendance mostly as Eomer's friend, making it easy for Lothiriel to engage him in conversation, and she spent a good while catching up on all that had been happening in the Mark since last she was there.

"You wintered well, then?" she asked, eager for more details.

"We did, largely thanks to you," He lifted his glass of ale in a salute to her.

"Hardly just me. The King and Faramir were equally responsible for seeing your needs were met."

He chuckled. "Perhaps, but _they_ did not send us dwarves!"

Seeing Lothiriel's confusion at his remark, he elaborated. "Dwarves are not, shall we say, mild tempered! Betersel had her hands full keeping them in check!"

"Oh dear! Did they cause trouble? I knew they were boisterous, but did not anticipate they might be a problem."

"No more than Gimli ever was. They did no lasting damage. And, as you well know, Betersel knows how to run her household. She did not let them get too far out of hand. Still, I think she was glad they could be housed in the barracks rather than the main house. She is not keen on having the peace of the house disturbed. At any rate, their presence was welcome. They quickly had homes and stables built that were both sturdy and well able to withstand the wintry weather. Eomer is deciding whether to leave the structures standing even after the need for them passes. It would be a shame to destroy them once they stood empty."

"I am glad. I had hoped for just this outcome. And what of food, clothes and fuel for light and heat? Was there sufficient?"

"The clothing you sent came in handy, certainly, and candles are always welcome. We largely used peat for heating as it was most in abundance."

"And what now?" Lothiriel was afraid of the answer to her question. Though it had taken considerable effort to send all the supplies to the North, she would rather miss the occupation and the satisfaction she had taken from it. When she and Eomer had discussed what activities she would pursue when she returned home, neither of them had envisioned this, but she had enjoyed being of use. And her father's sense of indebtedness to the Rohirrim had kept him from objecting to her taking charge of the relief effort.

"Now we replant wherever the land will support crops and new trees. We continue to rebuild homes where people may return if they wish. We raise more horses to sell or breed, and find other goods that will enable us to trade with Gondor. We _will_ prosper. Maybe not this year, but soon." He flicked a glance toward Eomer. "They have begun to call him Eomer Eadig – blessed. For all his misgivings, our people recognize his tremendous effort in their behalf."

She smiled. "Blessed. That suits him. All he ever needed was the means to do what was required. I could never think he would fail if he had that."

"Perhaps you would not, but I think he has fretted about it. I hope now he will see that his hard work has been rewarded and we have success. Yes, there is more to be done, but we do have success to have recovered this far already."

Lothiriel was uncomfortable discussing Eomer, so she turned their conversation to others she had known and asking how they fared. "All the better for a little coin in their possession, thanks to you." He eyed her pointedly. "That weregild was greatly appreciated by all who received a portion."

She stiffened. She had forgotten about that.

Eothain gave her elbow a squeeze. "Do not let memories of those men distress you. That is behind you now. But I did want you to know that the Riders were overwhelmed by your generosity. They were not expecting it, though I am sure they do not realize why you did not want to keep it."

She eyed him warily. She had only spoken of that to Eomer, but perhaps he had told Eothain when the money was distributed.

"I think Ceorl saved most of his and hopes to spend part of it here for—" He broke off what he was going to say. Let Ceorl share his own news with her. He was sure she would want to see him while he was at Mundburg.

If Lothiriel wondered at his biting back his words, she did not question it, though she had begun chewing on her lip. He wouldn't be surprised if she didn't work it out despite his silence.

Instead of pressing him on it, she asked, "And all went as expected when Eomer was officially made king?" She winced inwardly. She seemed to keep coming back to the subject of Eomer despite her best intentions otherwise.

"Of course. There was never any doubt except in his own mind. Eomer was never one for uncertainty, but I suppose it was too unexpected, and he had no chance to accept the idea before it happened. I hope now he will begin to be easier with his new position and not have it weigh upon him so heavily."

Just then Faramir and Eowyn joined them. "Do not claim all of Lothiriel's attention, Eothain! The rest of us want a chance to talk to her as well," Eowyn chided.

"It was not my doing!" Eothain exclaimed with mock affront, his hands raised in innocence. "My affable charm claims every lady's attention, regardless of my attempts to keep it in check!"

That elicited a laugh from all of them. "Oaf!" Eowyn retorted.

"Now, now," Lothiriel teased. "I can vouch that he is most agreeable, save when he is threatening bullies. But, then, few of the bullies are women."

Unfortunately for Lothiriel, the laughter of her group drew the notice of others, and soon most of them had gathered around. Eomer had taken a position behind her, beside Erchirion. His presence looming over her made her mouth go dry. If it was Erchirion's doing that he stood just there, she would definitely need to remind her brother not to interfere. Despite her words falling on deaf ears through the winter, she had at least hoped he would have the good sense and courtesy not to embarrass her with his meddling.

To her surprise, help came from an unexpected quarter. "I do not wish to be the one to disrupt this fine gathering," Elessar said, "but I am afraid I cannot avoid meeting with tradesmen just now. Certainly you are all welcome to continue in my absence, but I ask you to forgive me for taking my leave."

Her luck held for her father added, "Perhaps we should allow our friends from the North the opportunity to rest and refresh themselves for the evening? They have had a long and tiring journey, and the events of the next week will not slow that pace."

There was a general agreement to this suggestion, and as Eomer moved away, Lothiriel forced herself to relax and recover her equanimity. This was proving no easier than she had anticipated. How she was ever going to manage to get through it, she did not know.

xx

Eothain managed to hold his tongue only until they were no longer in earshot of others. Not that Eomer had held out hope of his silence. He was more tenacious than a warg with its prey. All winter he had dropped none-too-subtle hints and comments about Lothiriel. Even if Eomer's own heart would have left him in peace, certainly his friend would not. He tried to remind himself that Eothain's intentions were good, even if his methods were irritating. The truth was, though, he'd had about all he could tolerate. Whatever did or did not exist was between him and Lothiriel. It was not, should not, be the business of anyone else. Even childhood friends.

"You barely spoke to Lothiriel."

"There was scant opportunity, and you claimed most of her attention." He opened the door to his chamber, but Eothain followed him in.

"At the very least I would have expected you to thank her."

"I did thank her." Eomer didn't bother looking at him, pretending to be otherwise occupied with removing his tunic and shirt to put on a clean one.

"Not in person, you didn't." Eothain could be just as stubborn as Eomer.

"The method of expressing it has little importance, only that it was expressed. I was very sincere."

"Oh, well, that's a relief. ' _Dear Lothiriel, Thank you for the supplies. With great sincerity, Eomer_ ' I'm sure you overwhelmed her with your expression of gratitude."

"Do not act a fool!" Eomer snapped. "It does not suit you."

"I see. That is a privilege only kings may enjoy? I was merely following your example."

"Drop it!" He inhaled sharply. "I have things to do. I will see you at supper, Captain."

"Yes, your Majesty." Eothain gave an exaggerated bow as he backed toward the door and exited.

Eomer growled in frustration. The man was infuriating sometimes! As king, he could punish him severely, if he chose, for his rude behavior, but Eomer could not bring himself to act in a spiteful manner. He raked a hand through his hair. When all was said and done, Eothain _did_ mean well. Eomer just didn't know how to make him understand that he was not helping at all.

He did not like being at odds with his closest friend. He had depended on him more than ever since the day that Theoden fell and the course of Eomer's life was thrown completely off course. He drew a deep breath. Enough. He must focus on Eowyn and seeing her wed. Whatever his personal circumstances, he wanted his sister to be happy. It was unfortunate she found happiness with a Gondorian, but after all she had been through he could not begrudge her that. He was finding that the heart did whatever it chose, and its bearer did not have control over it.

By the time of the evening's feast, Eomer felt calmer and Eothain was tightlipped. Apparently he had decided to hold his tongue at all costs, or perhaps just when he knew Eomer had to be among other people. He doubted his friend had given up.

He could not say it was the most pleasant experience he'd had at such a gathering, but he managed to get through it reasonably well. The hardest part was glimpses of Lothiriel across the room. Eothain's harping had increased his own tension where she was concerned. If he were like Eothain, he would have found it simple to cross the room and clear the air with her, start afresh. But he wasn't like Eothain. Lothiriel had been the first, maybe the only, woman he had ever been comfortable speaking with on personal subjects. At least he had been until he lost his temper and let his pride overrule his reason.

It was just his luck that now he was beginning to feel that he could think of himself, somewhat anyway, he had acted in a way as to make his preferred choice impossible. He had no clue how to resolve this. Just another of his many missteps in the past year.

His solution was not ideal – drinking more ale than was wise – but at least it dulled the pain and his senses. He didn't feel like a dagger was ripping at his flesh whenever he saw Lothiriel. However, it certainly did not give him the will or courage to cross the room and bridge the gap between them.

It was a relief to plead weariness and slip away before the night was far gone. His friends might wonder at it, but rest was what he needed more than anything. Rest that he doubted would come.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	23. Resilience 23

_**NOTE: Nearing the end. Only one more chapter after this...**_

 **Chapter 23**

Elessar had been right. By the next day, wedding preparations were in full swing and Eomer was swept along on Eowyn's every whim. Gondor didn't do celebrations in a modest way, particularly among the nobility, and Faramir and Eowyn were about as noble as one could get in this land. It would not be a wedding as much as a spectacle. He was sure it was not Eowyn's preference; likely not Faramir's either. But there were certain expectations upon Gondor's Steward, especially a beloved one, and all were willing to accommodate the peoples' wishes in this one instance.

Eomer was grateful for the distraction, even though it could not engage his interest. More often than he would have liked, his thoughts drifted to other places and other people. Well, one other person, if he was honest. He did not care to be honest.

If he hoped his mood went unnoticed, he was to be disappointed. Though Eowyn was wrapped up in wedding plans, she could not miss the fact that Eomer was not fully focused. She could have attributed it to his conflict over losing her company at Meduseld, but she did not accept that was the whole of it. He had lost weight, and he wasn't sleeping well, though he tried to hide it, or blame it on work and worry. He had worked and worried while their uncle lived and Saruman was trying to destroy them, but he had slept and eaten regularly. Something else was amiss with him, and she suspected what it was.

It hadn't helped when his advisers tried to encourage the idea of marriage, and specifically to one lady of Dol Amroth, and she knew Eothain was dogging him on the matter as well. But she also knew her brother. She knew his stubbornness and his awkwardness with women. But most of all she knew his willingness to sacrifice his own happiness when he deemed it necessary.

"What troubles you, my love?"

Eowyn blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't noticed Faramir joining her in the garden. She drew a deep breath and let it out. "Eomer." It wasn't an explanation, but understanding lit his eyes all the same.

"Ah, Eomer. And Lothiriel."

"Yes. I do not know how to help him, or even if I should try. But to do nothing feels like I am abandoning him to his loneliness."

"I gather Eothain has spoken to him about it, probably more than once. His words appear to have had no effect. Talking perhaps would not be useful. Your brother has always struck me as a man who comes to decisions and actions at his own pace, and in his own way. Perhaps you have done all you could, by giving him a reason to be here now. But he must be the one to act on it. You cannot do that for him."

"Stop being so wise!" she pouted. "You know how difficult it is for me not to act!"

Faramir laughed. "Yes, I do know that. I suppose you will have to use that eager energy for the wedding, and let Eomer get himself sorted."

xx

Eomer's method of getting himself sorted was more along the lines of 'avoiding the issue entirely'. He sought to keep as busy as possible, hoping it would keep his attention away from wayward reflections. Unfortunately, being at Mundburg, and friends with Imrahil's family members, meant he could not fully avoid them, even if he wished it. And being with the men meant he predictably was aware of the lone woman, despite her absence in any particular gathering. He found excuses to go frequently down to the encampment, and linger once he was there. He rode out to visit Snowmane's grave, but did not tarry lest a morose mood assail his emotions also.

Mostly he kept trying to think of Eowyn and her happiness. He spent an astonishing amount of time visiting shops to find a gift for his sister, to Eothain's vast amusement. The big man might not have voiced it, but Eomer knew too well what the look on his face indicated. He was silently laughing himself silly at Eomer's behavior. If there was a way to manage it without the inevitable questions, he would have gotten someone else to be his guard for the duration of his stay here. But doing that would only encourage Eothain more, rather than repress him.

At least the daylight hours were easier than the night. He could pretend, ignore and push aside annoying random thoughts when he kept busy. But alone in his chambers, it was not as simple. Sleep fled and memories of Lothiriel wafted in his window on the evening breeze.

He had been in the City two full days when all the thoughts he had been trying to outrun or outmaneuver caught up to him at last. Surprisingly, he had dropped off to sleep quickly, but less than an hour later, he was full awake and spent the next few hours sitting on the balcony of his room staring at the moon and the stars without seeing them.

Eventually, though spring had come and the days were warming, the coolness of the evening drove him back inside. He stoked the fire, stirring the embers back to life and then adding a new log. He repositioned it with the poker until the new wood finally took the flame. As the brightness increased to lighten his room, the stand holding his armor cast a tall, dark shadow on the wall, glowering down at him.

He had seen his armor constantly since joining an eored, and had long since ceased to pay attention to it. Oh, he checked it before and after battles, making sure nothing was amiss or required repair, but he had not given any real consideration to what it represented. Just like the flickering shadow in the gloom, war had weighed upon his life for most of his years. As soon as he was old enough to become aware of the danger his father faced, war and fear had been ever-present companions in his life. The fear of going into battle and engaging the enemy he had learned to control. He could push past that and do what needed doing. It was the fear of not surviving, of losing friends and loved ones, and even moreso, what would be lost if the Eorlingas were not victorious.

As king, his fear took on a new face. It wasn't orcs and wargs and evil wizards that threatened him now, at least not nearly as often. Now it was food, shelter and clothing for those who had survived. Now it was seeing that children did not grow up burdened with that same fear he had known. Now it was in trying to make good and wise choices and decisions, for the best interest of his people.

This new fear he had not yet learned to control, to shove into a recess of his mind while moving forward with confidence and determination. This fear crawled through his veins and fed his uncertainties. This fear stole his rest and his appetite, and perhaps even a portion of his sanity. This fear, to his surprise, was far worse than any he had ever known.

He exhaled slowly, trying to untie the knot sitting in his stomach. Fear before a battle was a shared fear. He and the other soldiers might not have spoken of it, but all knew it was there and that they were not alone. But this…this he could not speak of to anyone. Not to Eothain, his closest friend, or his sister, his closest confidante. He even hesitated to discuss it with Aragorn. His brother might understand, but he was nearly thrice Eomer's age and had been through far more in his life. In Gondor's king he had never seen the doubt that gnawed at him. Aragorn might be kind if he knew of Eomer's concerns, but he surely would think him weak and foolish, even if he did not say it.

In a way, he had come closest to speaking of it with Lothiriel. Not specifically, of course. He had danced around the truth, choosing his words carefully, that her opinion of him would not suffer. For all that he was an honest man, in this he could not bear to even acknowledge the truth – to himself or to anyone else.

When finally sunlight began filtering over the surrounding walls, Eomer felt his weariness in his bones. Weariness of spirit more than body, though there was that also. Eowyn would wed today, and he had hoped to be better prepared, better rested. He had no doubt his emotions would rise and if he was not very careful, they would betray him outwardly.

Eowyn. Lothiriel. Life.

He shoved to his feet. His only hope was in activity. Get up and moving. Keep moving. Don't let it all catch up to him until he was safely back in his chamber and out of view of prying eyes. A brisk ride on the Pelennor in the cool morning air would clear his head, and bolster him for the day. He hoped.

Eothain was still abed, when Eomer slipped from his room. All the better. Certainly he knew not to leave the City unattended – the uproar would not be worth it – but Ceorl would be at hand and able to accompany him. Ceorl knew to keep silent and not bother his king with his opinions.

Any surprise the man felt at seeing him when it was barely dawn was kept to himself. He fell in beside Eomer as they made for the stables, then rode silently through the empty streets. A couple of shopkeepers were beginning to stir, but most were not yet out of their beds much less facing the day. The clear sky boded well for fair weather. That would please Eowyn. This time of year, rain was not unusual, but they had hoped it wouldn't dampen the festivities.

Once they cleared the City gate, Eomer turned toward the river and increased their pace to a steady gallop. Firefoot was eager for a run; he had been stall-bound for too long these past few days, and the stallion liked the confinement no better than did his rider.

The Harlond was already busy, unloading ships and putting supplies onto wagons. Flowers and food abounded, and since the entire City would be celebrating, all would be needed. He had heard that there would be dancing and food stalls throughout the City, so that all might participate in the revelry even if they could not attend the wedding itself. Eowyn and Faramir were to take a ride through the streets after the ceremony to enable all to see them and offer best wishes. It wasn't a practice they had in Rohan, but Eomer rather liked the idea. It did allow for more involvement of the people.

Nearly two hours later, Eomer's stomach protested the lack of nourishment and he reluctantly turned back to Mundburg. Eowyn would be up by now and in a flurry of last minute preparations. It would not do for him to be unavailable.

At the stables, Ceorl offered, "Shall I take him, my Lord?"

Normally, Eomer wouldn't have accepted, but probably today it was best that he did. Giving Firefoot's neck a final pat, he handed over the reins. "Thank you, Ceorl." With a nod, he turned toward the upper level.

He wasn't surprised to find Eothain in the sitting area of his room, giving him a suspicious glare when he entered. "Where have you been?"

"I went for a ride, Captain. I am allowed to do that." Since he was about to object, Eomer added, "Ceorl went with me. I was well _protected_." It rankled him that he was treated as though he had lost the ability to defend himself when a crown was placed on his head. It had never been an issue before that.

Eothain subsided, but continued to watch him with narrowed eyes, slouched in his chair. Eomer ignored him and set about collecting clean clothing. Eowyn would have his hide if he wasn't washed and neat in appearance. Horsehair and the scent of horse on clothes made no difference in Rohan, but today he did not think his sister would be of that opinion.

Eothain's stare was beginning to annoy him. "Go find us something to eat. I can clean myself and change clothes without your supervision!"

His friend's lips pursed, but he rose and did as he was bid. Eomer let out a sigh. Well, that had bought him a brief respite anyway.

Before Eothain returned with a servant bearing a tray of food for them, he had washed and was brushing the tangles from his hair. Probably he shouldn't have left it loose on his ride, but it was too late to change that. Once the servant was gone, he grabbed a roll and chewed on it as he continued working on his hair.

"Is Eowyn about yet?"

"No," Eothain replied, cutting a piece of meat. "At least, not that I saw. Lothiriel said she would be arriving early to assist Eowyn with preparations, so it may be that they are already behind closed doors."

Eomer's face twitched at the mention of Lothiriel, but he kept his expression impassive. "Good. While she stays to her room, I will have peace. When she comes forth, you may as well find a seat and keep out of my sister's way. Unless she decides to put you to work also. No telling what she will have in mind today."

Eothain shrugged. "It is just one day. If it pleases Eowyn, I am happy to help."

Eomer raised an eyebrow at his back, but made no comment. It was better not to get into a discussion like that just now. "Well, it will be over soon enough. Eowyn – married. It seems impossible." The full realization struck him just then. He supposed he always _knew_ it, but somehow now it was more real. In his mind's eye he always saw the little girl in pigtails chasing after him and his friends, begging to learn to use a sword, challenging him to a race whenever they rode together. Suddenly he was very sad that neither his parents, nor his uncle and cousin, could be here to share this day. Faramir was a good man, and an honorable one. They would, all of them, be pleased.

He shoved his musings aside. That would not do. It would be his undoing. Keep calm, keep focused. Just a wedding, nothing more. People wed all the time and it made few ripples in the world. Tomorrow life would go on just as it had today. Slight differences, to be sure, but no more.

Eothain could guess what was running through Eomer's mind. He had felt similar things, he was sure, when his own sister had married several years ago. Today he would be silent and supportive. Let Eomer get through this trying period and then he would again attempt to make him see reason. He absolutely did not want them departing Minas Tirith without a resolution between Eomer and Lothiriel. Preferably the desired resolution. At least now, for all his irritation, Eothain suspected he was finally allowing the possibility of his own happiness with his own companion of the heart. Far better that he return home with that, than simply the pain of leaving his sister here and facing an empty house at Edoras.

xx

"I do not know if I can do this." Eowyn stopped in the middle of the room and gazed around at all the clothing and adornments awaiting her.

"Yes, you can, shieldmaiden!" Lothiriel teased. "If you can face the Witch-king of Angmar, you can get through this. And when your legs feel shaky and your stomach is in knots, think of Faramir and your life with him. That will soothe your nerves."

Eowyn grinned. "Yes, Faramir." She wrapped her arms around Lothiriel. "Thank you. Yes, I can do this. Gondorians pale in comparison to the Witch-king and a Nazgul!"

They broke into laughter at that declaration, but it eased the tension.

"Besides," Eowyn added, "I should have no worries, with your involvement, since you are an old hand now."

Lothiriel rolled her eyes. "Participation in one wedding, in Rohan, between a soldier and a servant, hardly makes me an expert! _Especially_ when compared to _your_ wedding." She sobered somewhat before noting, "I cannot say I am without understanding of your anxiety. A noble wedding in Gondor is intimidating, at least to me."

Eowyn gave her a sly look as she took up a brush to work on her hair. "Well, then I suppose that means you should be sure to marry in the Riddermark."

Lothiriel's breath caught in her throat, and her eyes jerked toward Eowyn, but the woman had turned away. Had there been hidden meaning in her remark, or was she unaware of the implications of her words?

Eowyn looked oblivious to Lothiriel's reaction, and she forced herself to be calm. It was nothing; the words meant nothing. It was just an idle comment.

She turned her attention to wedding preparations, steadfastly refusing to allow the presence of Eowyn's brother to overturn her equilibrium. She would get through this, they would part ways and it would be done. The tears that wanted to spring to her eyes were merely due to her happiness for Eowyn and Faramir.

Fortunately, Eomer was making himself scarce and the preparations didn't really require his participation. As long as he was there for the actual ceremony. Her father, with great foresight, judged it wise to keep the men occupied out of the way until near the hour set, and had gathered Eomer, Eothain, Faramir and Lothiriel's brothers at his townhouse. They enjoyed a leisurely dinner and conversation that occupied several hours. Only when it became clear that Faramir's attention had wandered, and he expressed concern that they return lest they be late, did the party finally make their way to the Steward's House and assist in Faramir's preparations.

In truth, Faramir did not particularly need assistance, merely the moral support they provided in helping to calm his nerves. Eomer felt himself ill-suited to the task, since he barely knew the man, and he largely left the task to the Steward's kinsmen while he took a position by the window overlooking the courtyard. He could certainly wish there was more to occupy his mind lest it wander in directions he did not care to go, but it was proving a challenge.

"I remember when I married." Elphir had come to stand beside him. They had only met on this visit to the White City, but Eomer found he liked the heir nearly as well as the man's father and brothers. And sister.

"Did yours entail all the fuss as this one?" Eomer asked politely, not knowing what else to say.

Elphir chuckled. "Not quite. But it was…overdone, from a man's standpoint, anyway. But, for all that comes before in the organizing and executing of the formalities, it was well worth the effort. To finally be allowed to hold my loved one and take her home with me was worth any unnecessary fuss. This…this is all for show and legal purposes, but the true joining of hearts and vows comes later when you are alone."

Eomer's mouth twisted in amusement, and Elphir grinned. "I was not referring to that, though it is a part of it. No, there is a…release, I suppose. Suddenly all those constraints on what you may say and how you may act with your betrothed are swept away. During all the ceremony and well-wishing you are too distracted, and too often apart from your loved one. Not until you are alone can you look in one another's eyes and affirm what you had earlier said."

Eomer tried to appear nonchalant as he shrugged, though the conversation was not helping his frame of mind or his wayward thoughts any. "I suppose I will find out for myself one day."

Elphir smiled. "Yes. For what it is worth, I heartily recommend the marital state." He turned back to rejoin his cousin.

Eomer refused to watch him go, but he could not help wondering if there had been a hidden meaning in the man's words. Surely he could not know… No, of course not. It was just an idle comment Elphir had made, prompted by the current circumstances. Nothing more.

It could be debated whether the wedding had the betrothed couple on edge more than it did Eomer and Lothiriel. None of them were weathering this day without stress, even if for differing reasons. At least once they made it to the wedding supper, Eomer could relax somewhat. He had refrained from drinking much all day, not wanting to risk even the slightest drunkenness, but now he could ease that restriction on himself. The ale and wine served to settle him.

Good thing, too, for he knew he must dance at least a few dances. It would not do to be unsociable. Certainly there were enough women eyeing him eagerly, hoping to catch his notice. It soured his stomach, but there was little that could be done about it. He had known to expect this. The difficulty was in deciding the best course with regard to dance partners. He was not sure his sister would be parted from dancing with Faramir, but he could hope for at least one dance with her. Possibly the queen would like a turn on the floor as well, and he suspected there were not many at the assembly who would dare approach her.

While he was reasonably comfortable with Arwen in conversation, being a novice dancer on the floor with a beautiful Elf-woman would intimidate even the bravest of men. But, at least in his case, he knew she would be forgiving of any mistakes he made. And then there was Lothiriel. It would seem odd if he did not request a dance with her, not to mention he would not in any way want to give rise to further gossip that she would be avoided after her kidnapping. If only they had not lost their ease with one another. That was down to him. He could not deny it. His reaction to her behavior had been far too extreme, but knowing that did not undo the rift between them. Even with each apologizing, it was not the same as before.

He sighed and took another swallow of ale. Hopefully those three dances would fulfill his duty. With any luck, the wedded couple would sneak out of the assembly fairly soon, and provide him the chance to excuse himself as well. He was sure he could not leave before they did.

For Lothiriel's part, she was very eager for Faramir and Eowyn to withdraw. It would be easy enough to plead fatigue and get one of her brothers to escort her home. She had mostly managed to avoid Eomer's company all day, and they had barely spoken, but that had not kept her from seeing him nearby in most gatherings. She knew the day had been hard for him, releasing his sister to another man's keeping, but it distressed her to see the weariness on his face. His eyes were dark and veiled, but she had come to know that the stiff way he was holding himself meant his mind was in turmoil. She hoped the pressures of being king would soon ease, before the weight crushed him. He was far too young a man not to smile more and find greater happiness in their new war-free life.

"Lady Lothiriel."

She blinked and looked up. The object of her reverie was standing before her. "After your being kind enough to teach me to dance, I think it appropriate that I dance first with you. If you will."

Her eyes flicked around the room as she hesitated. Even though she wanted to answer yes, she was not sure that was wise. "Do you not wish to dance your first dance with Eowyn?"

He looked over his shoulder where Eowyn and Faramir were again moving onto the dance floor. "I do not think my sister even remembers there is anyone else in the room besides her new husband. I am not sure I could get her attention long enough to ask her for a dance."

In spite of everything, Lothiriel smiled. "I was next on the list? Or perhaps you wish for a dance with me to refresh your memory before you approach anyone else?"

He turned to look at her, surprised by the amiable response. At Edoras, he would have expected it, but that was long ago. Here…well, it did not matter. He would just accept it and be glad of that single instance of returning to their friendliness with each other. "There is that. While Eowyn did occasionally make me practice dancing with her in the evenings after you were gone, for the most part she left me alone about it. Now, I suppose, is my day of reckoning."

She smiled as he offered his arm to guide her onto the dance floor. Despite that brief warmth they had shared, the dance largely progressed in silence, and not altogether a comfortable one. Their occasional remarks to one another were, to Eomer's mind, inane at best. Weather? Travel to Gondor? These were subjects one discussed with a stranger, not someone he had known as well as Lothiriel.

Lothiriel was no more at ease than was he. She had surprised even herself with the jesting remark she had made earlier, but was pleased when he received it in the same spirit. She had spoken without thinking, naturally returning to her relaxed manner with him in Rohan. But the moment passed, and they had fallen back into the role of mere acquaintances all too easily. She snuck glances at him from the corner of her eye as they progressed through the dancing, but only unsatisfactory questions about their journey south for the wedding and how pleasant the weather had been came to mind. It was scarce consolation that he was obviously no more pleased with this idle discourse than she was.

With an inward sigh, she acknowledged that now the wedding was done she must make the effort to approach him. There were things that had to be discussed before he left. Eowyn had indicated her brother would be remaining a sennight after the wedding, to meet with Aragorn and his council, as well as see to other tasks he had in mind. And they hoped that the remainder of their kinsmen would now be able to return home with them.

He would be kept busy, she was sure, and if she did not act as soon as possible, the chance might be lost and he would be gone. At the very least, she wanted to learn if he wished her to continue procuring supplies or if he felt they were re-established enough not to require or desire it.

The dance ended, and with it the opportunity to broach the subject of a meeting. He bowed and excused himself after guiding her from the floor, and she sorrowfully watched him walk away. Well, it could not be helped now. What was done was done. She could only move forward and hope for the best. Within the next hour, Faramir and Eowyn were departing, to rather raucous cheers from the Eorlingas in their midst, and more subdued encouragement from the Gondorians. That out of the way, she pled weariness and imposed on Erchirion to walk her home. Fortunately, he did not question her reason.

TBC

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	24. Resilience 24

**A/N: Final Chapter - last chance for these two to straighten out the mess they've made of their relationship. I hope you've enjoyed the nearly 3 months of reading. Though this is ending, on the bright side, Lialathuveril has begun posting a short 3-chapter humor piece (part of her Lion and the Lady series) that will carry you another couple of weeks. At the moment, I have nothing else anywhere near ready, but I'll keep trying to work on something and see it to fruition. Happy reading!**

 **Chapter 24**

Imrahil's townhouse in the fifth circle was set back from the road, but afforded a good view of the comings and goings through the gate to the upper levels. It had been two days since the wedding and Lothiriel had not worked up the courage to approach Eomer.

As though in response to her contemplations, just then she glimpsed Eomer and Eothain passing, riding down the hill, probably to the encampment. She had not stood here in hopes of seeing him, but as she glanced down at the pearls in her hand, she knew she could delay no longer. She would visit Eothain and have him arrange a meeting for her. At least she had a valid reason for the visit: she needed to see that the pearls got to the dwarves in payment of their work on the shelters. And that would nicely lead into a discussion of whether he desired further efforts by her on their behalf. Once those tasks were accomplished, her obligation would be met.

Obligation? No, she had never considered it that. All the work and all the time spent had not been a chore. She acted only from concern for her friends and their well-being. She had done it willingly, and would gladly do even more if it was needed. And, she had long known that it was not entirely gratitude or an effort at recompense for her rescue and tender care by the Eorlingas. She had met the people and formed friendships. Even if she never saw them again, they would always remain in her heart. One in particular…

She shook herself. This would not do. She must not dwell on the past.

Fortunately, she often read or did needlework in the room overlooking the road. She was able to sit there without drawing undue notice. When she glimpsed Eomer and Eothain returning shortly before the noon hour, she determined to speak to Eothain in the afternoon. She wanted this done.

After dinner, she dressed carefully, not knowing what to expect or who might see her, and then set out. To her surprise, she was just turning toward the gate to the sixth level as Ceorl came through it.

"Ceorl! I am pleased to see you! Eothain mentioned you were here, though I had not seen you in the City. I assumed you must be at the encampment, and there has been no opportunity to go down there." It was best not to admit that she might have managed it had she not feared encountering Eomer.

He smiled, then asked, "And what else did Eothain tell you of me?"

Though Lothiriel suspected what it was Eothain had left unsaid, she felt it appropriate to let Ceorl share what he would. "He indicated you might be looking to make a purchase here. If you need my assistance finding what you want, I would be happy to help."

There was a glint in his eye. "That might prove useful. I am not sure I know enough to purchase for a baby." His mouth strained to repress his smile.

"Ah!" Lothiriel smiled conspiratorially. "I thought that might be what the good Captain kept to himself. How soon is Seftehad due?"

"Not for several more months, but with extra coin in my pocket," – he eyed her significantly – "I wanted to seek something special for our first."

"Indeed." Lothiriel avoided any discussion of where he might have gotten the money. "Perhaps I am not the best person either, but I know those that I can ask. Did you have anything particular in mind?"

He shrugged. "Nothing very large or heavy, I suppose. Most of what came with us in wains belonged to Eowyn, and will remain here. I could put it in the cart for the journey, but as we will be riding on ahead, I would not want to task anyone else with seeing my purchase safely home."

"Well, there are always baby clothes and blankets, though I am not sure they would particularly differ from those you have in the Mark. I do have a suggestion that might appeal to you, though you could not use it right away. But it would certainly be of Gondor. I never saw or heard any mention of it while I was in your land."

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but she shook her head. "It is better if I show you rather than tell you."

"Now? I am not occupied. I concluded my business with Captain Eothain and was returning to camp."

Lothiriel knew it was cowardly, but she nodded. "Certainly." She would talk to Eomer later. There was still time. "This is an unexpected pleasure." She gestured downhill and they began walking. "But tell me more of the doings at Edoras, and of Seftehad. I have not had as much opportunity as I would like to learn the news from others."

At least there was only one Eorling in whose company she was not comfortable. Little had changed with regard to everyone else, and she was glad of it.

"I am sure you wish for a son, but what about Seftehad. What does she want the baby to be?"

He shrugged. "She is content to give me a son, but she would not be displeased with a daughter. If she prefers either as her first, she has not said."

"And have you chosen names, for either possibility?"

"We will name the child after my father or her mother. As you know, neither of our parents are living." He grinned, before adding, "And Seftehad has informed me she wishes to name at least one daughter after you! Indeed, after all your efforts on her behalf, she regards you as a second sister."

Lothiriel laughed. "I am very fond of her as well! But will it be difficult for a child to bear a Gondorian name in the Riddermark?"

He pondered this, then shook his head. "In years past, perhaps that would be so, but with our renewed friendship and alliance, I do not think anyone would consider it amiss. I expect we would call her Thiri. Lothiriel is a rather lofty name for the child of a soldier and a serving girl. We would not have anyone think she believed herself above others."

"Thiri is what my family calls me – it is most fitting. You are right that the Eorlingas have simpler values. Lothiriel would be a mouthful for a child to bear."

By then they had reached the fourth level and Lothiriel guided Ceorl to the shop she had in mind. For the most part, the establishment was a jeweler, though they made and mended other small delicate objects. Ceorl's brow wrinkled in confusion. "A jeweler?"

"Wait. It is not what you think."

She led him over to a display cabinet, and pointed to a bangle bracelet that seemed to be made of stone.

His expression told her that he did not understand, but then she had not expected him to. She suspected amber was unknown in his land due to their landlocked location.

"In Gondor," she explained, "amber is usually found around the mouths of rivers as they join the sea. At first we assumed it was a stone, but then it was noticed that there are bits of plant material embeded inside it. Regardless of where it actually comes from, it is quite valued as jewelry simply for its beauty and unusual color."

He raised a questioning eyebrow, not grasping her purpose.

"It is hard like a rock, though it can be softened with heat to form jewelry pieces, and it has healthful properties that our Healers make use of. But in particular, ladies of Gondor often use these bracelets as teething rings for their children. It is possible this one teether could be used for all the children you and Seftehad have."

Suddenly his eyes lit up as he understood. "Indeed! That would make a fine gift for our first child, and all the others. Yes, this is exactly the sort of item I hoped to find – unique to Gondor but useful to the Mark."

They spent several minutes studying each of the bracelets available, until Ceorl finally decided on which one he wanted and made the purchase. Lothiriel suspected it was more than he had intended to spend, but since it would be long-lasting he did not seem to mind.

That done, they stopped at an inn for refreshment and further conversation, before saying their goodbyes. Then, despite Lothiriel's protests that it was not necessary, Ceorl insisted on walking her back to the fifth level. She could not help but appreciate the gesture. She had learned her lesson about wandering the streets unaccompanied after dark, but she felt more at ease when she was accompanied, even in daylight.

Back home in her room, she sighed. A most pleasant day to be sure, but she should be ashamed for grasping at any excuse to postpone what she needed to do. She glanced out the window – it was early and supper would not be for another couple of hours. She straightened with determination, checked her appearance in the mirror and headed back out the door. This needed doing.

Gaining access to the King's house was not a problem for the daughter of Imrahil, but as she was being directed to Eothain's room, she spied Wigmer, Eomer's esquire coming toward her.

"Good day, Lady Lothiriel."

"Wigmer, it is good to see you. This man was giving me directions, but perhaps you would guide me to Eothain's room that I might speak with him?"

"The Captain is not here, Miss. He has gone down to the encampment."

Lothiriel's brow knit. "Again? I saw them return before dinner."

Wigmer eyes lit with understanding. "They did not go to the camp. They just took a ride on the Pelennor. Now Eothain is seeing to business for the king."

At her look of chagrin, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to be of service?"

"Well, I was going to have Eothain arrange for me to meet with the king to discuss a couple of matters."

The lad brightened. "Eomer King is not occupied just now. I will ask him if he will see you!"

Lothiriel's heart lurched. She had not expected to see Eomer now, and had not prepared herself. Still, best to get this over with at once. "Thank you. I would appreciate that."

He hadn't even waited for her response before waving her to follow him back the way he had come, and left her in the hall while he entered to apprise the king of her request.

"Lady Lothiriel wishes to speak with me?" Eomer's mind was racing, wondering at this turn of events.

"Yes, sire."

He could meet her in this antechamber without it being inappropriate, but that risked Eothain returning and interrupting them. Or, worse, making his jibes at Eomer's behavior. No, best to absent himself to a place where the Captain would not have a chance of interfering in the conversation.

"Sire?"

"See if the library down the hall is available for us to meet there. If it is, escort the lady and then inform me."

"Yes, lord."

He was back in only a couple of minutes. "She waits for you there, Eomer King."

"Good. See if you can find refreshment to offer her – something to drink." The lad dashed off again, and Eomer checked his appearance in the mirror. It was fortunate that he had not followed through on his inclination to take a nap. He hadn't known he would have this opportunity; it could not be wasted.

He waited outside the library until Wigmer returned with a tray with wine and glasses. Steeling himself, he opened the door, not looking at Lothiriel as he directed where his esquire should set the tray. "Thank you, Wigmer." The lad bowed at his dismissal and went out, closing the door behind him.

Not looking at Lothiriel, he asked over his shoulder, "Would you care for a glass of wine?"

She started to reply, then bit back her answer. Even in jest it might be best if she did not say she would prefer a glass of table ale. "Thank you. That would be lovely."

A moment later, he handed one to her and gestured for her to be seated, then took a chair nearby.

"What may I do for you?"

"It is regarding the dwarves, my lord."

The _dwarves_? He frowned. This conversation had taken a turn he had not anticipated, or preferred. "What of them?" he asked warily.

Lothiriel noted his change in mood, though she was not sure what had caused it. Forcing herself to concentrate on her purpose, she explained, "It regards their payment. If you will recall, I mentioned in my letter that I had arranged to recompense them for their work." She held out a small drawstring leather bag to him.

He eyed it curiously, not sure if she wanted him to open it or not. "If you would see that Bafur gets that, before he departs for home, I would be grateful. I will not have the opportunity to see him in person to make payment before he leaves."

Eomer chuckled ruefully. "He might not be going home as soon as you think. He has become as enamored of the caves as Gimli was. It looks as though he intends to remain a good long while."

She smiled. "That is not greatly unexpected. The dwarves have quite an affinity for beauty, particularly among stone and gems."

They lapsed into silence then, unsure what else to say, and Eomer tried to remember what he had wanted to say to her. While he chose his words, she continued, "There is another subject I would discuss with you. I have a shipment of goods ready for you to take back with you when you depart. However, I have heard that the Mark came through winter quite well, although that does not say how fully you have recovered. Is there sufficient need that you would like for me to continue procuring aid? I am happy to do so, of course, but I did not want to take anything for granted."

He winced inwardly. He deserved that – naturally she would be leery of angering him again. Still, he hadn't truly considered whether aid could or should continue.

He pondered a few minutes, sipping at his wine, while she waited for a response. At length he told her, "I confess, I had not thought about whether to accept further aid. We can make use of whatever is in the shipment you have ready, but may I give you an answer at a later time as to whether you should seek more? I would want to think on what needs yet exist that cannot be readily met on our own."

It was a far more benign answer than she had expected, but she hastened to assure him. "Certainly. That would be fine. I will wait to hear from you."

Awkwardness overtook them again. Their words to this point did not exactly tend toward intimate conversation, and Eomer could not figure how to make the transition. His mind finally snagged on a memory to guide him. "I never thanked you properly for all you have done. I know my letter was not adequate to express our…my…gratitude."

"My lord, there is no need. I am sure you and the Eorlingas are appreciative of my efforts in your behalf. I only hope that everything proved useful to you. And I would want you take the supplies and my work as a token of my appreciation for all the kindnesses shown to me whilst I was in the Mark. Were it not for the circumstances that led me to be there at all, I should not regret any of my visit to your land."

"Lothiriel, I—"

He felt the distance yawning between them, a distance that polite words could not overcome. When, where had it all gone awry with them? Nearly from the start, he had liked her, enjoyed her company, found her easy to be with and talk to about any number of things. Yet, now they were mincing words, carefully circling one another like fighters watching for the next strike to be launched. He did not want that, had never wanted that, even when he was angry with her last year. But he did not know how to recover what they had previously shared.

She watched him in wistful silence, awaiting his continuation, but when none came, she rose and set her wine glass aside. With a modest curtsy, she said, "I thank you for your willingness to see me. I will take no more of your time."

He had followed her in standing, but both his mind and his mouth appeared to have stopped working. A sense of panic was beginning, that he would lose this opportunity and never have another one.

She turned to go, but impulsively he reached and caught hold of her shoulder, stopping her. "Wait."

While she made no effort to pull free of his grasp, neither did she turn to look at him. "My lord?"

He moved around in front of her. "My name is Eomer. You used to know that. I…I am sorry that I made you forget it."

"I have not forgotten," she said keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. "I did not think you wished me to be informal with you."

He released her shoulder and raked a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't know how to do this! Eothain was the one who spoke easily with others, with women. Eomer had long kept his thoughts and feelings secured safely inside himself, where nothing could wound them. But now those feelings felt tight and painful, as a foot that is injured and swells inside a boot.

Well, he did know something of such injuries, and the only relief was in cutting away the boot to release the constriction. "I…I have treated you unfairly. Eothain tried to make me see, but my…my pride would not allow it. And I feared…" He stopped, swallowing hard.

At last her eyes came up to meet his. "Feared what, Eomer?" she asked softly.

"Feared I was falling short of what I should be as king. Only if I alone solved all the problems facing the Mark would I have…would I have in any way measured up to my uncle."

"No! You must not think your efforts insufficient or not recognized by your people. Eothain tells me they have begun to call you…oh, what was the word…'eadig'? Blessed? They would not give you that name if they were dissatisfied with all you have done in their behalf. All spoke well of you, even in unguarded moments. You cannot – you _must_ not – think that!"

"Oh, Eomer," she added compassionately. "Do you not know that your people love you? Do you not know they do not expect you to resolve every hardship they face? They only need you to do your best, as you have always done."

"I…I have begun to see that lately, but it was not always clear to me. I think perhaps I failed them in trying too hard not to fail."

"Not true! You have _not_ failed them. None have I ever heard speak of you save with affection and respect. They see your efforts, but they also understand what you face in trying to overcome the challenges. If any are discontent, they are few in number. You should listen to Eothain more." She smiled. "For all his jesting, he speaks truly and honestly. He will help you all that he can, but he will also tell you when you are taking a misstep."

"He already has, and I would not hear him." Eomer sighed regretfully.

"Do not be heavy of heart. Your people have made it through the winter already. As I mentioned, I have more supplies coming. I will keep finding them for as long as you need them, but with the spring it will be easier for the Eorlingas to prosper. There _has_ been progress."

His jaw tightened with determination. He was no coward. His words might not be so smooth as another man could utter, but she was not going to leave this room until he had told her how he felt.

"Yes, for my people there has been progress. But there has not been recovery in their king."

"It will take time—"

"It has already taken far too much time. Too long have I been willfully blind. Too long have I been unwilling to bend for fear of breaking. I have good friends and strong allies, but what I need most now is…you by my side."

She was silent for so long that he feared he had misjudged, that Eothain was mistaken about her regard for him. At length, though, she simply murmured, "Me? What of value could I possibly offer to you?" Her eyes were downcast again, steadily avoiding his gaze.

"Lothiriel," – he reached for her hand – "do you have no feelings for me? I thought…well, Eothain claimed…"

Her eyes came up, wide with barely restrained hope. Swallowing hard, she asked, "He claimed that I had romantic feelings for you?" She hesitated and glanced away, then firmly said, "No, he was not mistaken about that. But I do understand that my actions have –"

Eomer didn't wait to hear what she would say next. She had confirmed her feelings and that was enough. He gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, and felt her tremble at his touch. For an instant, he hesitated, concerned that her reaction was fear resulting from what she had suffered at the hands of men. But then she met his eyes, and he saw the truth of it, her expression leaving no doubt. Her desire for him equalled what he felt for her.

"Eothain was right," he said, his voice hoarse and ragged. "I have been a fool." He drew her carefully into his embrace, watching for any reluctance on her part but finding none. "Your actions have always been with my welfare in mind. I would not acknowledge it before, but now I must. How else should a wife and queen act?"

Her eyes went round again and she gasped. "You…you are saying…?"

He took a steadying breath and then replied firmly, "I am saying that I wish to have you as my wife, and always beside me. I cannot promise I will never again let my pride overrule my judgement, but I will endeavor to avoid it. Perhaps you can train me to better behavior." He gave her a teasing grin.

Finally he felt her relax in his arms. "I shall give it my best effort, my lord, if you will attempt to school me in properly seeking your counsel before acting. A queen must not overstep her bounds."

He slowly bent down until his lips were almost touching hers. "If the queen makes the king happy, then she may do whatever she pleases!"

She didn't wait for him to close the distance. She reached up and snared him to her, and he readily responded to the prompting. Strange how he had envisioned kissing her so often of late, and yet it was far better than any imagining.

After several pleasurable minutes, he murmured, "Can you be happy in the Mark, do you think?"

She smiled and told him, "The Mark has one hold on me that no other place does."

His brow creased with curiosity, but a broad grin of amusement split his face. "Which is?"

" _You_ are there, so I could not be happy anywhere else," she avowed, drawing him into another kiss. When they paused to take in air, she added, "Or with anyone else."

Certainly this turn of events was not what either expected when their meeting began, but once they managed to overcome the issues of the past, they were able to talk more freely.

xx

Eothain was staring at the door when Eomer entered. He should have expected that. He had been gone too long for his Captain not to have returned, and if he had wanted to return unnoticed he probably shouldn't have been whistling. Surprisingly, Eothain didn't challenge him as he normally would.

"You've been gone for a while. Wigmer said you were meeting with Lothiriel."

"Yes. She wanted to discuss payment for the dwarves, and whether she should continue procuring supplies for us."

Eothain's eyes narrowed as he watched Eomer moving about the room, attending to minor tasks. Eomer couldn't hope that was the end of the discussion. Eothain had always maintained he knew Eomer far too well to be fooled by appearances, and he was sure his friend would detect a change in him.

He heard the Captain rise from his chair and turned to look at him. "Are arrangements in place for the remaining men to return home with us?"

Eothain did not reply, only stared thoughtfully at him. Suddenly he moved forward, embracing Eomer. "At last. You have long deserved happiness of your own."

He grinned ruefully over the man's shoulder. It was almost annoying that Eothain _did_ know him that well – no questions, he just knew that all was resolved with Lothiriel. Resolved to Eothain's satisfaction.

The Captain drew back to look him in the eye. "I am sorry to have pushed so hard, but I could not let you miss out on this through misguided hesitation. I know you do not think I understand the burden you bear, and perhaps I don't, but I do know it has threatened to bury you. You do not need Lothiriel in order to succeed as King – you've already done that – but you do need her for you to find peace and joy in living once more, as Eowyn has."

Eomer sighed and cupped his friend's head with his hand. "I suppose I should thank you for trying to save me from myself. I am glad that my becoming King of the Mark has not changed your willingness to speak honestly, even when you know I will not like your words."

Eothain grinned irrepressibly. "So, will you be taking a bride home with you?"

Eomer rolled his eyes and turned away. "You do not give up! It is not that simple with kings and the daughters of princes. Like Eowyn, we must do _more_ in order to wed." He paused, then said firmly, "But it will happen as soon as possible. I will speak to Imrahil tonight."

Eothain went to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine for each of them. Smiling, he raised his in salute toward Eomer. "To the King AND Queen of the Mark!"

xxxxx

"Well, where is he, Gamling? Why was it necessary for our King to drag me from Aldburg to attend him here? I'm not a young woman, you know!"

Gamling smiled at Betersel's fussing. "I am sorry, Betersel, but Eomer King wishes to discuss an important matter with you, and could not come to Aldburg at this time. Unfortunately, he has guests arriving very soon and cannot meet with you now, but he hopes to do so by suppertime."

Betersel sniffed disapprovingly. "Very well, then. Where is my room? I assume he doesn't intend to ship me back there tonight?"

Gamling chuckled. "This way."

For someone unused to travel, the ride from Aldburg in a wagon had bumped and jolted every bone in Betersel's body. Supper would not be for a while yet; she thought it wise to rest until then. No telling what mischief Eomer was up to. She advised Gamling to send someone to wake her, either when Eomer was ready for her or it was mealtime, and then stretched out on the bed. She might have pondered further the reason for this mysterious summons from the King, but she had chewed it over for the entire journey without thinking of any likely causes. She would just have to wait and see.

She couldn't have slept very long – maybe an hour at most, since the sun had not moved far in the sky – when she was wakened to the sound of horns blowing. Must be Eomer's guests arriving. He hadn't requested she be there, but neither had she been told not to come. It was her practice to meet all guests at Aldburg. No reason to stop that habit now.

She tidied her dress and hair, slipped on her shoes and went to the main hall. Already members of the household were making their way to the terrace Gamling was heading in her direction, and she raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"I was just coming to get you. Eomer would like you to join him in greeting his guests." He gestured toward the terrace, and she moved in that direction, more curious than ever as to what this was about.

Eomer had not yet arrived, but a small party had reached the top of the hill and was dismounting. Betersel idly eyed them, not expecting to recognize them, but there was the chance the visitors might have stopped at Aldburg. Just then the woman in the party of men turned to look upwards, and a warm smile split Betersel's face.

"I believe you know my betrothed," a quiet voice said in her ear, causing her to look back at the young man who had come up behind her.

"Indeed. We have met," she said laconically, eliciting a chuckle from him.

Lothiriel was already making the climb up the steps, her eyes solely focused on Eomer. When she reached the top, she dropped a brief curtsy, then laughed and launched herself into Eomer's arms. Merry applause and enthusiastic cheering greeted the kiss he gave her, despite the reproving look her father was trying to make her notice.

When at last they drew breath, she let her hand trail down his cheek. Then, realizing the need for a little decorum, Lothiriel glanced around to greet the others gathered. Her eyes fell first on Betersel, and she beamed with pleasure.

Stepping forward, Betersel opened her arms to the girl. "Welcome home, my dear."

THE END

(1/8/16 – 6/4/17)

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Betersel – "more happiness" – Eomer's housekeeper at Aldburg

Ceorl – rider of Rohan, in Eomer's company (a ceorl was an independent peasant landowner; also contains the element éo meaning "horse")

Glydged – "slippery speech" – stableman at Aldburg who was injured in the war

Wídfara - may mean something like "far traveller" or "wide wanderer"; he was a Rider of Rohan and fought on the Pelennor, but now has taken over running the inn from his aged father.

Lachthoniel – "flame kindler" – waspish woman in Minas Tirith who is eager to gossip

Blidhe – "gentle, kind" - servant girl at Aldburg who attends Lothiriel

Metehad – "small person" – servant girl at Meduseld who attends Lothiriel

Borduin – "faithful river" – elderly servant in Lossarnach who was struck down by the bandits when Lothiriel was kidnapped

Belthoniel – "kindler of strength" [Bell (or bel) – strong; -thoniel – kindler (fem.)] – servant in Lossarnach with healing skills; in this story, she is a sister of Ioreth

Seftehad – "pleasant person" – Ceorl's betrothed

Cielbrand – "cold sword" – Rider who rode with Ceorl in showing Dunharrow to Lothiriel

Heorleod – "pleasant man" – minstrel who was at Minas Tirith for battle and learned Gondorian music

Madalwin – "meeting friend" – one of Eomer's advisers who tries to suggest Lothiriel as a possible queen choice

Caladael – "pool of light" – Lothiriel's maidservant in Gondor

Balaras – "powerful deer" – Imrahil's steward at Dol Amroth

Wigmer – "famous battle or warrior" – Eomer's esquire

dwarf names:

Bafur – son of Bifur – chief over the gate rebuilding; finds the other 4 to go to Rohan

Fel – cousin of Oli – "Living in the mountains"

Frain – brother of Frod

Frod – brother of Frain – "Enlightened or wise"

Oli– cousin of Fel – "Hallowed"

Mar – corpse – takes over supervision of the gate building when Bafur leaves


	25. Resilience 25 Epilogue

_**A/N: So, I really hadn't planned to write any more on this story any time soon, but then RubberKidney, troublemaker that she is, provoked me with her review suggestion. You can blame…er, thank Lialathuveril for this taking so long to post. It's all the better for her insightful input. Actually, the delay is all my fault. Lia responded promptly to my questions, but I was slow to get them implemented. Sorry 'bout that! CORRECTION: RubberKidney is a dude, or so he says. Don't you love internet anonymity? Apologies, but he's still a troublemaker, albeit a justified one.  
**_

 **Epilogue**

"Thank you for coming," Eomer said, fervently hugging her. "I did not want to bother you, drag you all the way here, but—"

"Hush that nonsense! You should have sent for me sooner. She shouldn't have to experience this with only strangers and acquaintances to attend her. Of course I would come. Now where is she?"

"This way." He gestured to the door.

"How long has she been in her travail?"

"Many hours now. Is that normal? Everyone says that is normal, but—"

"Eomer, take me to her, then find Eothain and go for a long ride. You will go mad sitting still and waiting, and likely then you will drive everyone around you mad as well."

He grinned sheepishly, opening the door to the bedchamber. "Maybe I will do that. But not far. I want to be here when he comes."

"Hoo hoo! So sure it is a son, are you? Go!"

She closed the door firmly in his face. King or not, men had no place in a birthing room unless they were a healer.

Lothiriel looked over to see who had entered. Her eyes lit with surprise and delight. Offering a weak smile, she said, "I am glad you are here. It will be easier to get through this with you at my side."

"Hush that! If that silly husband of yours had thought to send someone to collect me a week ago, you would not have had to endure this alone." She patted the girl's hand, glancing around at the others in the room. "I had thought your friend Seftehad would be with you."

Lothiriel had closed her eyes with weariness, but blinked them open, grimacing as another pain moved through her. After a moment, she explained, "She has come as much as she could, but she has her own babe too young to be left alone for long, so cannot stay."

After a shift in position, to hopefully ease her discomfort somewhat, Lothiriel added, "Truth is, I think she and Ceorl prevailed upon Eomer to send for you. Seftehad did not like seeing me without someone by my side through the worst of this, and regretted she could not be here herself. She judged you would be the next best thing."

"Men! It is fortunate someone with sense dared reproach Eomer. This will _not_ happen with your next child, you may be certain."

Lothiriel blanched, giving a drawn out groan before scowling at her. "Do not speak of more children until I am done with this one, if you please."

With a chuckle, she looked toward the midwife for information.

The midwife suppressed a smile. Whoever this woman was, she liked her and her honest opinions, freely given. "Not too much longer. The babe has moved into position, and she is well open. The pains have been long and strong, and the birthing should begin in earnest within the next hour or so."

"Oh!" Lothiriel gasped, squeezing her hand tightly. "Oh, oh, oh!"

The midwife smiled. "As I was saying, possibly in the next quarter hour."

She chuckled. There was only so much that was predictable about a child's birth. For the most part, they came when they chose, regardless if the mother, father or world was ready for them. She released Lothiriel's hand long enough to pull on an apron a servant was offering to her, and then washed her hands in the basin on the table.

Another spasm wrenched a groan of pain from Lothiriel, and she winced in sympathy. It had been many years since her own daughter was born, but she still recalled the excruciating pangs needed to bring about the child coming forth.

The midwife eyed her carefully. "You have attended a birth before?"

"Several, including my own labor."

The midwife nodded, deciding the elderly woman was not up to physically assisting the queen. She gestured for her to sit at Lothiriel's feet. "Keep an eye on things while we prepare for the delivery."

Two of the girls assisting tried to wipe Lothiriel's face with damp cloths, and cover her with another blanket to ease her shivers, but she pushed them away.

The midwife silently glanced over to see how things were progressing. Another groan led into a strong contraction.

"The head is showing. Down to business now," she murmured. "Come, my dear. Hold on – you can do this. Just a while longer. Your child is nearly here and this misery will only be a memory."

Save for the sounds of panting and pushing, the room was mostly silent as the labor progressed. It was evident the queen was exhausted. With any luck, the birthing would soon conclude and she could rest. At least she was young, healthy and strong to begin with – that would help immensely.

"Let's get her onto the birthing stool," the midwife instructed after checking the progress for herself.

"Must I get up?" Lothiriel asked reluctantly. "I am so tired."

"I know, dear one, but the birthing chair will make this final part easier, and help bring this to an end. Do as the midwife says."

It took some doing to get Lothiriel on her feet and onto the stool set close by, but the midwife always used the strongest girls as assistants for just that reason. Two stood behind, providing extra support as the queen squatted over the stool's opening.

"Here he comes," Betersel said quietly, resuming her position at Lothiriel's feet as the queen let out an extended grunt at the effort of pushing. She smiled, shaking her head, then murmured to herself, "Now he's got me assuming it is a boy."

Then there was no more time for idle thoughts. "This one is coming quickly – he's in a hurry to join the world, just like his papa was," she announced. She made sure a towel was at hand, and the midwife bustled around checking how the queen was holding up and that all was proceeding as it should.

Another half hour, and several more strains, were needed before the babe slid forth. "I've got him." With quick, sure movements, she wiped the blood and mucus from his face. She smiled. "Beautiful."

Lothiriel sprawled exhausted on the stool, catching her breath, as the women around her spoke soothingly and wiped her brow. Now she did accept a blanket.

The midwife was checking the babe, again clearing his mouth and nose, then cutting and tying the umbilical cord. Lothiriel had responded to a few sips of warm, watered wine, and so the midwife oversaw getting her settled back on the bed while Betersel lovingly cleaned the child. When she finished, one of the assistants handed her a fresh, soft blanket and she deftly wrapped the infant up to keep him warm.

"Time for you to meet your Mama, little one." She carried him to Lothiriel's bed and placed him on her stomach. The girl's eyes widened in awe and delight.

"He is wonderful," she murmured, a few tears trickling out.

"That he is," she replied. "Well done, my dear."

"Thank you, 'Grandma' Betersel. Perhaps you would take word to Eomer. Best to end his suffering as soon as possible."

Betersel chuckled. "Aye. And he'll want to see the two of you."

"Oh!" Lothiriel's eyes went round. "More contractions!"

She reached for the baby. "Let me have him. You have one more task before you're done. I'll take this young man for a moment. When the afterbirth comes forth, you can try to nurse him, if you feel up to it."

Lothiriel reluctantly released the baby to her, but then smiled again. "I am glad you were with me if my own mother could not be. I had not looked forward to going through this without anyone beside me save for the midwife and her assistants, but I did not like to ask anyone to come."

Betersel's face softened. "I am honored to stand in for your mother, as I have done for Eomer and Eowyn. After all, we are family now."

"Yes," she agreed tearfully, "we are."

THE END, again

8-23-17 – 9/14/17


End file.
